


Who's Got Trouble

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2018-10-26 14:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: A former love walks back into Sirius's life, with unforeseen consequences.  (Sirius/Remus, James/Remus)  A what-if AU.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: First of all, if you haven  


* * *

I  
  
On the lonely expanse of land known as Diagon Alley a pair of masked men armed with wands and fatal curses chased after a tall, skinny boy. He had an illegal wand, taken from the body of a fallen Death Eater, and although he wore the robes of a pureblood, he gave off an air of desperation usually reserved for those of mixed descent. His face was smooth - he couldn’t have been more than eighteen - and his eyes were piercingly green.  
  
“Move,” he yelled, dodging the crowds out for a cautious stroll, all browsing second hand shops and taking in the false air of freedom. He ploughed directly into a freckled boy and girl near his age with matching bright heads of hair, knocking the boy to the ground. “Sorry,” the runner called frantically over his shoulder. He continued on without pause.  
  
“Out of the way! Out of the way!” The two men, whose masks were purely tradition at this point, paid little heed to the crowds as they closed in on their prey. He was nearing the end of the alley now.  
  
The young girl watched with the air of someone who had seen this far too many times. The running boy would be caught and brought to whatever justice the Death Eaters saw fit. There was nothing to be done about it. She shook her head and looked down at her brother.  
  
“That was a bit rude, don’t you think?” he said with a scowl as he slowly righted himself. “Why do people still imagine they can get away with things here?”  
  
“I dunno.” She shrugged and began briskly dusting the dirt from his robes.  
  
“Stop that. It’s fine.” He squirmed away. “You’re as bad a mum was.”  
  
He regretted his choice of words immediately, watching her turn sad eyes away from him. “God, I’m sorry,” he said, his face wrinkling into a frown as he reached to take her hand. “That was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have – you know I didn’t -.” He cut himself off. “C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged on her hand, tiny compared to his own. “ I’m told anything can be bought around here, even your freedom. And you shouldn’t have to see that.” He nodded towards the nosy crowd that had begun to amass in the alley.  
  
“I won’t leave without you, Ron,” declared his sister, her chin set stubbornly.  
  
“Okay, then,” said Ron, knowing better than to argue about it now. “Let’s go buy _our_ freedom.” He led her away from the chaos of the street with one worried look thrown over his shoulder.  
  
The boy with the shockingly green eyes was making one last desperate attempt to escape. His gaze darted right to left, and his wand was held at the ready in his trembling hand. He didn’t have a chance, trapped as he was, back against the wall. He was hit directly with a stunning spell and his slight body flopped in a heap on the ground. The wand fell from his grasp and rolled away from his prone form. Ron shook his head. Attempting to fight from the inside always got you killed. He and his sister disappeared inside a dark doorway.  
  
At a restaurant across the street, a middle-aged couple sat at a small table. They had donned their Sunday best, pointy hats and frayed dress robes, in from the coast to procure herbs and potions for the small apothecary they managed. Before beginning the trek home, they stopped for a cuppa at a long ago favored meeting place. The window they peered through was smoky and old paint declaring the establishment _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor_ peeled from the glass.  
  
“What was that all about, do you suppose?” the man asked his wife in his clipped accent.  
  
“That,” said a younger man with arresting grey eyes, a head of dark hair, and dapper black robes, appearing at their side with a flourish, “was a foolish young man’s attempt to overthrow the Death Eaters’ rule.”  
  
The couple looked up in surprise. The newcomer joined their table and leaned in conspiratorially.  
  
“If what I’m told is correct,” he continued, “he killed a few Death Eaters and stole a precious object belonging to the Dark Lord himself. Foolish, but I suppose desperation does that to some. And he got farther than most.”  
  
“Yes,” agreed the older man, watching as the Death Eaters in their masks picked up the boy’s body and began hauling him away. “Foolish.”  
  
“What will happen to him now?” asked the woman. The gathered crowd began to disperse and go about their business.  
  
“Who knows,” answered their new friend. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill him outright. Perhaps they have plans for him. This is a dangerous place, you know. You two ought to be careful.”  
  
“We will,” swore the woman. She smiled at the kind stranger. “Thank you.”  
  
“It’s not a problem, I assure you.” Grey eyes crinkled and their owner stood to walk away. “Always have to be on your guard, even here in Diagon Alley.”  
  
*  
  
Three streets away, a woman with perfectly coiffed hair and the green robes of a commander stepped outside. A girly black bow held her hair off her face, and her eyes bugged out. She was surrounded by a handful of elite men and women, all wearing the serious expressions of those with purpose. They were met by a stout, jolly looking man with too many chins and a round belly, sporting an impressive number of highly polished medals on his immaculate robes.  
  
“Miss Umbridge,” greeted the man with a smile. “As always, it is a pleasure.”  
  
“Slughorn,” Umbridge acknowledged with a nod, offering her hand. “I trust you have good news for me.”  
  
“Young Potter was taken into custody over an hour ago,” answered Slughorn, bending low over his belly.  
  
“And the object?” asked Umbridge.  
  
“It was… not on him, Madame, though we have reason to believe he gave it to Black. Given the gravity of the situation, we have put twice the number of men on it.”  
  
Dolores Umbridge paused and Horace Slughorn waited expectantly beside her. “Black?” she whispered. “Interesting. So the rumors are true. He has turned.”  
  
“I’m not certain. From what we know of him, he rarely does anything that doesn’t garner him his fair share of galleons.”  
  
“I suspect another arrest will be made soon, then?”  
  
“Yes. As a matter of fact, we know where he’ll be tonight.”  
  
“Do we?”  
  
“At his brother’s. Everyone goes to _Sirius’s_.”  
  
Umbridge nodded, a gleam in her small eye. She began walking, beckoning for Slughorn to follow. “Then that is where we will go, as well.”  
  
*  
  
Despite the moneyed patronage that often frequented the bar, there was always a stale overlay of despair lingering around the crowd. Yellowing maps papered the walls. Gathered at the many tables littered throughout the rooms, groups with forced smiles and hunched shoulders sat with heads pressed close together. The clanging of ice in glasses and the rattle of coins mixed with their sharp laughter. The cheerful tinkling piano did little to cover the whispers. Smoke from cigarettes mingled with the air of desperation. The room was drenched with the smell of jasmine and whiskey and fear.  
  
A tall man with a cap of graying dark hair and three days’ worth of stubble stood behind the bar, wiping it down with a dirty rag. He dropped the rag onto the counter and fished inside his pocket, producing a crushed cigarette pack that he tapped against the bar. He had about him the sort of confidence that came with age and money and blood, and the sort of casual despair that came with years of self-imposed loneliness. A hand came into view and nicked a lighter off the bar-top. The flame flared, illuminating two sets of grey eyes.  
  
“You really should quit. Those things will kill you.”  
  
“I can think of a few things that will kill _you_ , you know,” the barkeep said, breathing in the first calming tug of smoke. He exhaled. “Your employer, for one.”  
  
Regulus bared his teeth in a grim smile. “There’s hardly anything I can do about that now,” he said, settling lightly on a barstool.  
  
Sirius pulled another long drag from his cigarette. He said nothing, but studied his younger brother across the wooden bar: the drawn and narrow face; the deep, bruising circles under his eyes. A body jostled him. Sirius looked sharply to his left.  
  
“Sorry, boss,” said the young girl beside him. She jiggled a tall tumbler full of ice. “I need the whiskey in front of you.”  
  
“Here you go, Pansy.” Sirius handed the half-empty bottle over, watching as the amber liquid filled the glass. When Pansy returned the bottle, Sirius flipped it over, filling up a glass before him three fingers high before pushing the tumbler across the bar.  
  
“No,” he said quietly, facing his brother. “I don’t suppose there is.”  
  
“Give me one of those, would you?” Regulus said, nodding towards the pack on the bar before taking a long drink of whiskey.  
  
Tossing it over, Sirius asked, “You nervous?”  
  
Regulus took a drag of his cigarette, coughed loudly, and shook his head. “Course not. This is a great song.” He nodded over to the piano in the center of the bar. “Muggles really know how to write ‘em, don’t they?” He paused. “Have a drink with me.”  
  
Sirius shook his head. “You know I don’t drink with customers.”  
  
Snorting, Regulus crushed out his cigarette.  
  
Sirius eyed it. “Kind of a waste,” he commented.  
  
“I’m not a customer, brother. I don’t pay for your booze. Though I could. People in from the country are so easy, can’t even do a proper sticking charm. I nabbed a wallet from an old couple in Fortescue’s this afternoon. C’mon,” he said with a cocky grin, “you can break your rules for me. Pour yourself a glass of something strong.”  
  
“No, I can’t.”  
  
“Very well.” Regulus raised his glass in a mock toast and downed its contents.  
  
“More?” Sirius asked, reaching for the bottle again.  
  
Regulus shook his head. “In a minute.” He leaned in across the bar. “First, there’s something I need you to do for me.” He turned his head, first left, then right, watching the other customers closely. He lowered his voice. “Something I need you to keep for me.”  
  
“I’m done doing you favors, Regulus.” Sirius resumed methodically cleaning the bar.  
  
“This isn’t for me, brother. It’s for an old friend of yours.”  
  
Sirius’ hand stopped briefly. “I don’t have any friends,” he issued matter-of-factly, moving the rag across the bar again. “I have customers, employees, people I dislike immensely, and I have a brother.”  
  
“An _old_ friend, Sirius. It could mean the difference between his living or his dying.”  
  
Intrigued despite himself, Sirius asked, “Who?”  
  
The song came to its refrain, and the noisy crowd began to shout, “Knock on wood!” joyously along with the piano player. Sirius barely made out the name Regulus uttered.  
  
Without pause, he stated, “Whether that man lives or dies is hardly a concern of mine.” He stabbed his cigarette into the ashtray. “Is that all, then?”  
  
Regulus eyed him for a few moments. “Please, Sirius,” he pleaded eventually, his eyes going dark. “It’s not safe to keep it on me, but you – in this place – you can keep it safe. I need to keep it somewhere safe. It’s for a few days, a week at the most. I’ll be back to get it soon.”  
  
Sirius met his brother’s eyes. “What is it?”  
  
The front door opened, intermingling the fresh air of the emptying street with the gay strains of the piano for a moment before shutting, cutting the bar off from the outside once again.  
  
“I’ll have that other drink, now, if you don’t mind,” Regulus said without taking his eyes from Sirius’s face.  
  
After filling the tumbler once again, Sirius shot a look towards the entrance. A child-sized woman had walked in only moments before. She slithered her way directly to the back room with a significant glance towards the bar.  
  
“How much do I owe for that?” Regulus was already reaching into his robes.  
  
“A knut should cover it, I think.”  
  
“Here you go.” He passed something much heavier than a knut into Sirius’ hand. “Thanks for the drink. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go try my luck at the tables.”  
  
Sirius narrowed his eyes, head nodding in the direction of the back room. “Do you really think that’s wise? Maybe you shouldn’t press your luck. Head home.”  
  
Regulus bared his teeth once more. “No need to worry about me anymore, big brother.” He tossed his drink back and stood. “I’ll be around.”  
  
“Around,” echoed Sirius.  



	2. 2

II

 

 

His body itched. It had been a long time since he’d sat uncomfortable in his own skin. It was a new sensation, or rather an old sensation he had forgot about long ago, like the regret of past actions. Or dreading the full moon. It was no doubt being back in this place, this place that seemed to suck the life and the hope from everyone who walked its path.

 

His feet slowed. Where he needed to be was a scant hundred meters away. The rickety sign that used to declare it ‘The Leaky Cauldron’ swung above its entrance no longer; instead Muggle neon lights, garish and ostentatious, brightly shined another name. He sneered, old feelings of inadequacy and burning hate rushing through him. Maybe this had been a bad decision after all.

 

He looked to his left and saw an unfamiliar face reflecting back at him in a deserted shop’s window. Black eyes and black hair, pale skin, slight body, but entirely too old and far too frightened. It seemed everything had changed since his last trip to Diagon Alley, himself included.

 

He continued on until he recognized the owner of the bar, sitting at a lone table outside, looking older than his forty years should have afforded him, lost in thought. Resisting the urge to pull his wand, and taking advantage of the opportunity to slip in quietly without Black’s notice, Severus glided up to the door. The person he needed to contact was rumored to want nothing to do with Black now. If luck permitted (not that he fooled himself thinking that it would) he wouldn’t have to deal with Black at all. 

 

Without a glance behind him, he moved inside and took a spot in the corner to wait.

 

*

 

A spotlight was fixed to Gringotts. 

 

Though Diagon Alley was flouted a neutral safe haven for all of wizardkind, most who frequented the area knew differently. It was no matter that Death Eaters couldn’t arrest just anyone on sight, there were always charges waiting for those they considered criminals, trumped up or otherwise, that landed each and every one of them in jail. What used to be the shining and proud Gringotts bank, with its deep and twisting underground caverns, was the perfect prison to lock away enemies. The lucky ones were eventually killed. An unfortunate few were taken to Hogwarts.

 

Sirius shut his eyes as the spotlight swept across the deserted stretch of street before his bar. The irony didn’t escape him: that what was once the safest place in Britain was now the Dark Lord’s strongest fortress. He tapped a cigarette onto the table before him, impatiently lighting it before slipping the pack back into his pocket and inhaling a shaky jerk of smoke.

 

“Needed a moment alone, I imagine.” 

 

He exhaled and turned at the voice. His former professor, looking well fed and very well rested stood smiling down at him in the light of the flashy neon sign above his bar. Sirius gestured to the seat in front of him. “I find I rarely get what I need.”

 

Horace Slughorn settled himself heavily into the seat, crossing his hands over his ample belly. “So cynical,” he commented. “In one so young. It’s very sad.”

 

Sirius gave a wry smile, exhaling loudly. “I can see it’s eating you up inside, old man.”

 

Slughorn gave a hearty laugh, completely uninsulted. “It’s too good an evening for that sort of thing. There’s going to be an arrest tonight,” he fairly sang. “A big one. I’m sure you heard about the men who were killed earlier last week?” When Sirius nodded he continued, “We’ve already rounded up one culprit this afternoon, and the other will be brought to justice soon enough.”

 

Sirius eyed him for a moment. “Dolores Umbridge came to London, all the way from Scotland, and she’s decided to grace my bar with her presence,” he noted, putting two and two together.

 

Slughorn gave a wide, conspiratorial sort of smile, and leaned in over the table. “Ah, yes. Well, you see, Sirius Black, the person whose name resides on the warrant is in your bar.” 

 

“Is that so?”

 

Slughorn eyed him closely. “Do you have any problem with us arresting one of your patrons?”

 

With a shrug of his shoulders, Sirius exhaled his last puff of smoke. “I shouldn’t imagine so,” he said. “What you and your government do is hardly any concern of mine, just as long as the drinks keep flowing.”

 

“The man in question is someone you’re rather close to,” Slughorn informed him, his moustache twitching. “I shouldn’t think you’d be so glib about the affair if you knew his name.”

 

Sirius met his eyes. “I put myself on the line for no one,” he told Slughorn. “You should know that by now.”

 

Slughorn nodded. “Neutral, yes, that’s what they all say. Sirius Black is as neutral as they come.” His eyes narrowed. “But you didn’t used to be, young man. Don’t forget, I had you in my classes. I know what house you were sorted into, and I remember the crowd you palled around with. You say you’re neutral now, of course, but I remember when you weren’t.”

 

Sirius gave his shoulders another shrug. “Things change, _professor_. You of all people should know that.”

 

“’The more things change, the more they stay the same’ has always been a good philosophy to live by, I’ve found.” He paused for a moment, contemplating Sirius as the spotlight made another round. “Tell me,” he continued, “do you know the name of the young man arrested today? I imagine you’d find it quite interesting.”

 

“Well, then, out with it.”

 

“His name was Harry. Harry Potter, actually. You have something of a connection to him, if I remember correctly.”

 

Sirius stiffened slightly in his chair and struggled to keep his face neutral. 

 

“I see by your eyes that you didn’t know,” Slughorn commented. “No bother. There was nothing you could have done prevent it – not that you would have of course, your being neutral and all.”

 

“Harry…” began Sirius.

 

“Was dragged away by Death Eaters this afternoon. And is no doubt on his way to Hogwarts, or dead. His father will be in your bar tonight. It’s been a long time since his feet have touched British soil. I trust you’ll make certain he and Miss Umbridge have a chance to meet.”

 

“On what grounds are you planning to arrest Potter?”

 

“Oh, he’s not the person we plan to arrest. Umbridge merely wants a word with him. Impressive record, James Potter,” he noted with a sly smile.

 

“Yes,” agreed Sirius, “I imagine it is.” 

 

“Not that you would know anything about it, of course.” 

 

“Not anymore.” Sirius scraped his chair back from the table, prepared to stand. “If Slughorn wants to meet with Potter, it’s no concern of mine.” 

 

“No, but then, Potter’s not the only one Umbridge wants a word with. Another old friend of yours comes with him, a werewolf, I believe. Remus Lupin.”

 

Sirius stood abruptly. “I’m sure you’ve been missed, Mr. Slughorn,” he said loudly, gesturing to the door. “Don’t let me keep you from your associates any longer.”

 

“You’re quite right,” Slughorn agreed, rising. “We’ll be making our arrest soon. It would behoove you to cooperate in any way you can. There will be no way for you to help the man now.” He sauntered over the door. Sirius watched him tug it open with his heart high in his throat. A blast of smoke and conversation rolled out into the street. “As soon as James Potter and Remus Lupin arrive, I expect to be informed,” Slughorn said over the noise. “And if you know what’s good for you, Sirius, you’ll then stay out of this matter altogether.” He disappeared inside. 

 

Reaching for another cigarette, Sirius sank down into his chair. Remus Lupin and James Potter. Sirius could hardly begin to imagine. How long had it been, since he’d seen either of the men he would have willingly given up his life or freedom for, once upon a time? Nearly two decades, and tonight they would be in his bar. Perhaps, he decided, sucking in a deep lungful of nicotine, tonight be a good night to turn in early.

 

 

*

 

His luck, as it was, appeared to be running out. For a while, it looked as if he was going to triple the galleons he’d taken off that lovely couple in Fortescue's. Now, with only a few knuts left, he didn’t imagine there was any point in not gambling it all away. He took a swig from his whiskey. He didn’t have to pay for the booze, at least.

 

“Put it all on black three,” he ordered, shoving his last few coins towards a black circle on the table. “And don’t forget to give that wheel a mighty spin.” 

 

The man with the – no pun intended, really, thought Regulus – poker face spun the roulette wheel. “Black three,” he called out, pushing Regulus’s winnings his way. 

 

“Would you look at that? Maybe I am lucky after all.”

 

“Mr. Black,” said a weedy voice behind him. “We’d like a minute of your time, please.”

Regulus glanced over his shoulder to see three armed men behind him, all wearing official robes, all wearing official expressions. 

 

Well, this can’t be good, he thought. Dolores Umbridge eyed him carefully from a table in the center of room, a small wicked smile playing on her wide face, while Horace Slughorn bent down to whisper in her ear. A quick glance around showed that two more Death Eaters stood by the back door. His heart thump thumped loudly in his ears. No one guarded the double doors leading to main room of the bar.

 

“Of course,” Regulus said, giving what he hoped was an innocent sort of smile. “Won’t you just let me convert my chips, please?” He turned towards the table and accepted his money with a nod, slipping it into the magicked-pocket in his robes, and pulling out his wand. 

 

And ran, legs pumping, arms flailing, for the double doors. He shouted a spell behind him, not stopping to see if it connected. If he could just get through – 

 

He burst through the doors, aiming another stunner over his shoulder. He could hear screams, behind him, in front of him, and shouts now that the crowded bar was all that stood between him and Diagon Alley’s blood stained and “neutral” streets.

 

He darted for the door, just as Sirius stepped in from outside. “Sirius!” he yelled. “Do something.”

 

Impassive grey eyes stared out of his brother’s familiar face. Something like recognition and defeat dawned in them. “What would you have me do, Regulus?” Sirius asked. His face was devoid of emotion, his lips pressed in a thin line. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”

 

Regulus clutched at his brother’s robes desperately. “You could hide me,” he squeaked, “or hold them off. Anything to give me a chance.” He looked desperately at the door; he just needed to get there. The shouts behind him grew louder.

 

“You know they’ll find you, Regulus,” Sirius said quietly. “I couldn’t help even if I wanted to.”

 

“I’m your brother! Think of something!”

 

Sirius took Regulus by his wrists and removed his hands from his robes. “I told you I’m not doing you any more favors,” he said, his eyes showing no regret.

 

The doors behind him blasted open. Regulus looked around for one last quick escape, but there was nowhere to go. 

 

“Whatever you do.” He lurched up and whispered in Sirius’s ear, desperate to believe some of the old Sirius still existed behind those eyes. “Keep the locket safe. Please, Sirius.”

 

His saw his brother’s imperceptible nod just as the stunning spell hit him. Then it all went black.

 

*

 

He could scarcely believe the scene that had played out before his eyes. Sirius Black was many, many things, he knew: cruel, arrogant and self-righteous, to name a few. It should have come as no surprise that he carried no loyalty in his heart for blood relations, though there was a time when Severus would have labeled the once-upon-a-time Gryffindor loyal to a fault.

 

He tried to shrink into the shadowy corner, as Black looked out across the bar. “Sorry about the interruption, everyone,” Black called out loudly. “There’s no need to be concerned. Feel free to go about your merry making.” He gestured to the bar. “A round on the house should do it, I think.” Black gave the room an easy smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes and made his way to the staircase in the opposite corner. Severus let out a breath of relief. The last thing he needed was to see recognition blossom in his former schoolmate’s eyes.

 

The patrons began to take their seats again. Severus listened half-heartedly to the conversations around him. A couple at the bar were discussing the Weird Sisters – who Severus had decided was a band he would never regret not hearing – as they waved cigarettes around wildly.

 

Two men seated at the table directly in front of him contemplated a chessboard before them as if their very lives depended upon it, sipping cognac and letting cigars burn down to the nub in glass ashtrays.

 

To his left, another group sat, producing laughter that was too sharp to be anything but forced merriment, all of them consuming too much liquor and discussing next week’s plans with too much excitement. 

 

He eyed the room with distaste. Maps lined the walls, in what felt like a vain attempt to make the guests feel that they were anywhere but here. The whole bar was an exercise of excess and forgetfulness, and quite frankly, it disgusted him. He sneered at the lot of them, having their fun, in their utterly pathetic lives, feigning obliviousness to the war that raged on around them. Human nature, he decided, was not an impressive thing.

 

The front door opened again. Severus lifted his chin just in time to see James Potter and Remus Lupin step inside, both wearing horribly inappropriate white robes. The years had not exactly been kind to either of them, though he begrudgingly admitted they looked dashing enough. An air of serenity hung about them; it clashed with the palpable desperation in the room. They were entirely out of place.

 

Severus straightened his shoulders. He watched them, biding his time. 

 

Everyone seemed to be here to forget about the war, but he was here to see it to its end.


	3. 3

III

 

It wasn’t exactly what he would have expected. Dark, yes. And smoky, as most bars were. And tinged with something akin to anxiety. But still, not what he would have expected. Not that he’d expected much of anything. He spent almost no time at all thinking about the sort of existence Sirius Black led, and a lot of time remembering not to.

 

“I’m still not certain this was the most prudent of places to meet,” Remus said quietly, ducking his head so only James could hear him. “From what I’m told this is the sort of place to go if one wants to be seen.”

 

James swept his eyes around the bar, seeing recognition in many of the faces that looked their way. “That’s precisely why we’re here,” he said, beginning to wind his way to the bar. “It would look suspicious if we didn’t show.” 

 

“In case you missed the memo, suspicion is not exactly one of the things we lack, Prongs,” Remus wryly pointed out. 

 

James laughed darkly. “You’re right about that,” he conceded, “but we need to do this. If we don’t find a way to -” He swallowed, feeling a familiar panic snake its way around his chest. 

 

A comforting hand gave his elbow a squeeze. “We _will_ find a way,” Remus assured him softly. “And we’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

He turned to meet Remus’s steady gaze. “I know,” James said. A wealth of gratitude rushed through him. James took a deep breath and schooled his features into something resembling calm. “Thank you.”

 

Remus gave a small smile. “There’s never any need to thank me. You know that.”

 

“All the same,” James said with a tilt of his head. He slid into an empty seat at the bar.

 

Remus nodded in understanding and turned to the bar. “Hello,” he said to the young girl pouring drinks. 

 

“Hey.” She looked no older than eighteen, short black hair, too much eye make-up, and the surly expression of youth. James knew it well. “What can I get you?”

 

James noted her robes, shabby, but meant for someone of pure blood. He cringed inwardly. Sometimes, as far as he was concerned, Voldemort had already won. 

 

“I think,” Remus answered her with a familiar smile, “we’re in the market for a couple of drinks.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously come to the right place. What’ll it be?”

 

While Remus ordered their first round, James took a moment to check out their surroundings. The place was packed. People sat clustered around nearly every checkered table. He pretended to study a colorful map of some far away tropical land, wondering how long it would be before they met with their informant. Longbottom had promised they would know him by sight.

 

“And what’s your name, if we need anything else?” he tuned in to hear Remus ask the girl. 

 

She pushed two full glasses their way. “It’s Pansy,” she said, directing a genuine grin at Remus. James hid a smile. It never failed. Must be the eyes.

 

“Pansy, did you say?” James asked, taking hold of his drink, and leaning into the bar. “Can you tell me something? Is the owner around? We thought he might join us for a drink.”

 

She shook her head and James felt a swoop of satisfaction. “Sirius? No, he’s not here right now. And he wouldn’t drink with you, even if he were. He never drinks with customers.”

 

James raised his glass. 

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call them customers,” said a voice behind him. James could hear the sneer in it. 

 

“More like old friends of your employer’s,” continued the snide voice. “Hello, Potter. Lupin.”

 

“Severus,” whispered Remus. James watched him go white.

 

“Snape,” he said, turning to see the man, and put his body slightly forward, between Snape and Remus. Snape looked older, and – if at all possible – worse than he had in school, one long scar marring his pale face, and staring at them with dark, unreadable eyes. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Snape said with his lip curled. “Offering a hello to old school mates.”

 

“Last I heard,” Remus said with a slight tremor in his voice, finally turning to look fully at Snape. “You were living in America.”

 

“You heard correctly,” Snape said. “I was in London to pick up supplies. Thought I’d take in the sights while here.”

 

“The sights,” James said, simultaneously nodding and cursing fate. “We thought we’d do the same.”

 

“Indeed,” said Snape. “Won’t you let me buy you a drink for old time’s sake?”

 

James raised his glass, still full. “Maybe next time.”

 

Snape nodded, his face still completely closed. “Do come and find me when you need a refill. I’d be delighted to catch up.”

 

“Count on it,” James assured him. He turned to watch Remus study Snape’s retreating form. “Do you want me to do this alone?” he asked, feeling concern well up. “I can, you know. You can go back to the room.”

 

Remus shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered. “I need to be here as much as you do. I need to do something. Anyway, you have enough to be concerned with. Don’t worry about me, as well.”

 

“Easier said than done,” James said. 

 

“Besides,” Remus said, nodding towards the other side of the room, “it looks like we’ve got company.”

 

James followed his gaze. Horace Slughorn was waddling his way towards them, followed by what James was certain was a large, female toad. He recognized her by reputation alone. “Trouble, you mean,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

 

“We always have trouble.”

 

“Well, if it isn’t two of my best former students,” called Slughorn jauntily. “Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin.” From the smile on his over-fed face, James half expected him to clap his hands.

 

“Professor Slughorn,” James acknowledged. “How are you, Sir?”

 

“Ah, young man, it’s not ‘Professor’ anymore.”

 

“Right,” said James. “Silly of me to forget.”

 

“There’s someone I’d like the two of you to meet.” He turned, presenting his companion with a flourish. “Dolores Umbridge, allow me to introduce you to the famous team of James Potter and Remus Lupin.”

 

“Famous,” said James, “I’d hardly call us that.”

 

“No,” agreed Umbridge, her voice sticky and sweet, “more like infamous. The two of you have quite the reputation, you know.”

 

“I wouldn’t believe half of what you hear, Madame,” said Remus, sticking out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Yes,” she simpered, allowing him to take her hand briefly. “Why don’t we skip the formalities?”

 

“Of course,” interjected Slughorn. “We’re all friends here.”

 

“Indeed, we are,” said James, offering them a tight smile. He held onto his glass, looking Umbridge in the eye. “What can we do for you?” 

 

“If you don’t mind,” she said, with a stiff smile of her own, “we’d like to set up a meeting with the two of you tomorrow.” 

 

James had been expecting this. “Is there any particular reason?” he asked.

 

“It’s merely an informal question and answer session. Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you.”

 

“No concern here,” said James. “Though I am curious what would happen if we decided not to show.”

 

“Why, nothing at all,” she said, hand fluttering to her heart. It was all James could do not to reach out and break her wrist.

 

“Of course not,” said Remus. “It’s not as if we’re under arrest.”

 

“Nothing of the sort,” said Umbridge, her voice crystallizing. “You are free to decline the invitation. I merely thought you’d be interested in hearing what has become of the two criminals we arrested today.”

 

Caught off guard, James could only stare at her as his brain did little to digest the news. Beside him, he felt Remus stiffen. 

 

Umbridge gave a wide, satisfied smile, eyes bulging out slightly. “Should we say around ten, then? Wonderful,” she said without waiting for a reply. “It was a pleasure, gentlemen. Until tomorrow.”

 

Through a haze, James watched Slughorn nod and totter after Umbridge. He jumped slightly when Remus clutched his arm. “Making a scene now will not help Harry,” he cautioned quietly, and James noticed he was already half-off his stool, intent upon following the pair. “Let them go.”

 

James sat down and promptly drained his glass. “I think,” he ground out, “I’m going to see Snape about that drink he promised.” 

 

“Just be careful,” said Remus, giving his wrist another squeeze. “Please.”

 

Nodding, James pushed himself away from the bar and went to see a man about a drink.

 

*

 

 

There were maps everywhere. It was exactly what he would have expected. He wondered if James had noticed. It wasn’t an entirely unorthodox decoration, but still, it was if the room had been decorated just for him.

 

He watched James walk away, his back stiff and straight. Umbridge had said two arrests had been made that day, and that could only mean – 

 

Yes, it was necessary to be here, and he would do whatever it took to help. The unfairness of the situation struck him, though he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He had made his choice, and was happy with it. The knowledge didn’t always make things easier, just made him more resolute. 

 

And James, it was impossible not to love him. He had an easy charm about him, and his passion for ending this war was rivaled by no one. And he needed Remus, in ways that made him feel useful and helpful, and sure of his place.

 

Still, he could have done without the maps.

 

“You look like you could use another one.” Pansy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He gave her a weary smile, thinking he could use about a dozen of them. 

 

“Please,” he said. The bar behind her was well stocked, with both Muggle and Wizarding liquor. The Muggle lifestyle, their booze, their music, their art, had all swung into fashion about ten years ago, mostly as novelty items, mostly – as far as Remus knew – because Sirius started up a bar that featured Muggle eccentricities. Remus suspected it was Sirius’s way of rebelling. 

 

Remus squinted in the dark, eyes lighting on a familiar piece of parchment tacked on the wall to the right of Pansy. Something hot swooped in his stomach, and it wasn’t the whiskey. “Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the parchment.

 

Pansy glanced behind her. “Actually,” she said, making a face, “Sirius doesn’t let us move the decorations around. Besides, it’s just blank parchment.”

 

“If it’s just blank parchment there really can’t be any harm in letting me see it, can there?”

 

She looked torn. “To tell you the truth, Sirius is rather weird about that parchment,” she confessed in a hushed voice. 

 

Remus leaned in close. “It’ll be just for a moment, I promise,” he said, smiling at her with what he hoped was his most innocent expression.

 

“You knew Sirius in school? Were you friends?”

 

Remus nodded, thinking how little that word did to sum up their relationship. “Quite good friends, actually.”

 

She bit her lip, and Remus knew he had her. “I’ll give it right back,” he assured her. 

 

“All right,” she conceded, reaching behind her and pulling the parchment from the wall. “But only for a moment.”

 

There was no great charge that rushed up his arm the moment she slipped the parchment into his hand. Not that he’d truly expected anything of the sort, it was only – 

 

He never thought he’d see it again.

 

How many hours, days, had they spent, heads bent close in whispered thought, working out the logistics and the magic? How many buckets of sweat and love and friendship had been poured into this very parchment? A time when they never thought they could be ripped apart, before betrayal and death. Though it had been dangerous, he had never been scared, and now - 

 

“How is he?” Remus finally asked, quite unable to stop himself. 

 

“Sirius?” She gave her shoulders a shrug. “He’s alright, I guess.”

 

Remus fingered the parchment, resisting the urge to pull his wand and whisper the words that would make it come to life. 

 

“You could ask him yourself,” he heard Pansy say. He looked up at her to see her eyes trained on a spot behind him. He felt weightless suddenly, adrift. The air rushed out of the room. Remus felt his hand shake, just slightly, as he turned himself around on his stool.

 

For a moment, he let himself drink in the sight: closed face and tight-lipped smile, eyes the color of storm clouds, and what lay behind them was probably just as unpredictable. He forced himself to speak, not moving his gaze away from the familiar face of the stranger who stood before him now. 

 

“Hello, Sirius.” 

 

*

 

“Another drink,” Severus instructed briskly, falling quiet as the barmaid filled a glass for Potter. 

 

She pushed it towards him and headed away from them, hips swinging under her shabby robes. 

 

“In all the way from America to catch a few sights,” Potter commented. “That’s quite a trip.”

 

Severus nodded. “There were pressing matters, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

 

Nodding in agreement, Potter got right to the point, for which Severus was grateful. The less time he spent in the place, the better. “I was here to meet my son,” Potter said quietly, and for a brief moment, Severus feared the other man would start to cry, so evident was the tremor in his voice. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Potter close his face.

 

“So you’ve heard of his arrest then?”

 

“I have.”

 

“Perhaps letting a child come alone to war was not the wisest decision.”

 

“What choice did I have?” Potter asked, and Severus was quite certain the question was not meant for him alone. “He is eighteen and as embroiled in this war as any of us. We thought, being so young, he could go almost completely unnoticed. We were wrong.”

 

“On more than one account,” Severus said. “For Regulus Black was arrested as well.”

 

He saw Potter nod as he took a deep drink from his glass. “And the object?” he inquired.

 

“I don’t know,” Severus admitted, “though the last person he spoke with was his brother.”

 

“Sirius is not likely to help us.”

 

“You and Black were like brothers, many years ago.”

 

“Things have changed since then. You must have known that they would.”

 

“I didn’t have time to find out, did I? I left school almost immediately, after…”

 

“So did he,” Potter said. “That was the last time I saw him.”

 

A moment of silence stretched before them like a bridge over an abyss. “We still must carry on,” Severus noted, “even with the losses.”

 

“Yes, we soldier on,” agreed Potter, “because it’s all we can do.”

 

For a moment, Severus felt he had a kindred spirit in his old enemy. It was bizarre. 

 

He heard Potter snort. “Of all the people,” Potter commented, as if he could read his mind.

 

“I would hardly have been my first choice,” Severus admitted around a sip of his whiskey. “Since losing Dumbledore, we have been stretched too thin.”

 

Potter raised his glass. “To great men, those we have lost, and those who we may yet save.”

 

Severus brought his own glass up. “To great men,” he echoed.

 

*

 

He’d known coming back down was a bad idea, but the temptation to see Remus and James had simmered in him until he’d felt the sheer force of it compel him towards the bar. He’d never been any good at resisting temptation. And even knowing they were going to be in his bar had not truly prepared him for the shock, the impact of coming face to face with Remus. Older, with hair almost completely grey and lines webbing out from his eyes, he was still handsome. 

 

Sirius inclined his head, trying to forget the many times he’d imagined this reunion. “Lupin,” he said, “what brings you to London?” He plucked the map from Remus’s hands and folded it, sliding the parchment into his pocket with a stern look aimed over the bar towards Pansy. She had the decency to blush and give a half-hearted apology before swinging her hips down the bar, towards another patron.

 

He watched Remus’s eyes darken. “Visiting old friends,” he said pointedly, nodding towards the corner, where Sirius saw James and… Severus Snape standing beside one another, trying to hold a civil conversation. Sirius ignored the piercing comment about old friends, trying futilely to wrap his mind around seeing Snape in his bar. How had he missed that? He felt an old hatred rise up inside him, mixed with a fair amount of guilt. 

 

“A reunion, then,” Sirius said shakily, swinging his eyes from the scene in the corner back to Remus, then away again, not quite certain where to rest his gaze. He moved behind the bar, deftly grabbing a bottle and topping off Remus’ drink. “Here,” he said, “I find these meetings go much smoother when whiskey has been consumed in large quantities.” He gave a humorless smile. “If you need anything else, please let me know,” he continued. “Though I would ask you not to pester my help anymore.”

 

“Of course,” Remus answered. “It won’t happen again.”

 

Sirius clunked the bottle back into the well tray noisily. “I’m sure it won’t,” he said, wanting nothing more than to escape back to his flat. “You’ve been out of England for a long time now,” he said, keeping his voice void of emotion. His hands itched. He needed a cigarette.

 

“Yes,” said Remus quietly. 

 

“Traveling?” asked Sirius, lighting a smoke and tugging in a breath of nicotine, keeping his eyes trained on the bar.

 

He heard Remus give a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call what we’re doing holidaying, but yes, we’ve been traveling.”

 

“We…”

 

“James and myself, for the most part. England’s…different than it used to be.”

 

Sirius nodded, preparing himself to look Remus in the eye, finally. “Yes, well, a lot’s changed.”

 

“It certainly has,” interrupted a smooth voice.

 

He lifted his chin slightly. James, standing protectively close to Remus, eyes trained on Sirius. It looked as if Snape had already slipped outside.

 

The smile Remus aimed at James was warm and familiar, and a knife twisted in Sirius’s gut. “Did you enjoy catching up?” Remus asked. Sirius fought the urge to snort. 

 

James, his eyes still on Sirius, said, “It was…informative. This is a nice place you have here, Black.”

 

Sirius gave a guarded half-smile. “Thank you. There’re a few tables in the back room,” he said, nodding, “if you feel the urge.”

 

James shook his head. “I’d rather not take my chances. Place like this - ” He looked around with mock-interest – “the house usually wins.”

 

Sirius let his smile grow predatory. He shrugged. “Usually.”

 

“We should probably head back,” James said, smiling over at Remus, who was watching the two of them cautiously – Sirius felt a pang, remembering the look. “I think we owe you some money.”

 

With a casual shake of his head, Sirius said, “It’s on the house.” He swallowed. “I didn’t realize you and Snape were on speaking terms,” he uttered before he could stop himself.

 

“Like you said,” James began, “a lot’s changed. Thank you for the drinks, Black,” he said abruptly, already half-turning away while Remus pushed himself quickly to his feet. “But we do need to head out.”

 

“Yes, thank you,” said Remus. “It was…nice to see you again.”

 

Sirius nodded. “It’s not a problem at all,” he said hollowly. 

 

Remus stood completely and caught his eye, but Sirius looked away quickly, too afraid of what he would see there. He nodded again, and pivoted to wash their tumblers in the sudsy water behind him. When he turned around, they were gone.

 

He exhaled loudly and pulled the map and a locket from inside his robes. He needed a drink.


	4. 4

IV  
  
Couple by couple, his customers filed out of the bar into the dark, deserted street until he and Pansy had been left alone with dirty glasses and full ashtrays and the lingering smoke. “Go on home,” he’d said to her. “Leave this to me.”  
  
The lights were turned off. The music had stopped. The floor was swept and the bar wiped down.  
  
He sat on a high stool, a half-empty bottle in front of his half-empty glass, and stared at the bar before him. Remus had smiled at James like he… like he was in love with him. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a great surprise. They were both, as far as Sirius was concerned, easy to love. He’d just never imagined –  
  
Memories – that he never allowed himself to remember but that he found impossible to forget – tumbled through his head: a scrawny eleven year-old with pale eyes plastering maps all over the wall behind his bed, talking about the world he expected to see some day; the quick, unexpected thud of pleasure when those same eyes smiled only for him; James’s dark head bent back in laughter as they planned their next prank; Peter nicking sweets from the kitchens for another late night spent practicing their transformations; Padfoot and Moony and Prongs and Wormtail romping around the forest and the grounds; the exhilarated laughter of knowing they might be caught, but never caring.  
  
A first kiss, the tentative brush of lips; the heat that started at his toes and rose like the sun through his body, making him red and gold, and awake. And all the kisses after, some sweet, some urgent, some secret and special, and always theirs alone.  
  
*  
  
 _“We’ll have to put a pin in it, then, won’t we?”  
  
Sirius looked over at Remus, sitting with his knees crammed up against his chin. “Guess we will,” he said with a smile. “Do you have any left?”  
  
Moony shrugged. “I can buy more, or, hey, maybe we can conjure them.”  
  
“Conjuring is seventh year stuff, in case you’d forgotten.”  
  
“You managed to teach yourself how to transform into a dog. Conjuring should be, you know….” He snapped his fingers lazily.  
  
Sirius smiled languidly. Moonlight slanted heavily across Remus’s cheek, making his pale skin glow blue. They sat in the Astronomy Tower, hips pressed close together, giddily discussing tomorrow night, and what fun the full moon would bring them, though – as usual – the talk had melted into hot kisses, and the kisses had melted into frantic hands, until eventually, it turned back to talk.  
  
“Do you even have a map of Africa?” Sirius asked, twining his hand around Remus’s.  
  
“Sure I do,” Moony said. “I already have lovely spots picked to visit as well. We’ll add Morocco to the itinerary. It won’t be any problem. Do you think we should go there first, then?”  
  
Sirius glanced over. “We?” he asked.  
  
“Well, I thought, once we were done with Hogwarts…”  
  
“We could travel around a bit?”  
  
Remus shrugged, and the light smattering of freckles across his nose grew just a tad darker in the starlight. Sirius felt something warm and content slide through him. They had only ever discussed a life beyond Hogwarts in the most general of terms: what do you want to be? Where do you want to live? But this –  
  
Remus was planning a future, and Sirius was in it.  
  
“We’ll have to tell Peter and James, eventually.”  
  
Remus gave an unconcerned nod.  
  
“Soon,” he promised. “After tomorrow night. Not now though.” He smiled, his slow, secret smile, the smile that sent hot butter gliding through Sirius’s belly, and said, “I like it just being you and me.”  
  
Sirius looked down at their twined hands. “Me too.”  
  
“We’ll probably be gone a long time,” Remus commented.  
  
Sirius felt a smile blossom. “We probably will,” he agreed, imagining it. “After all, it’s a big world out there.”  
  
*  
  
The moon was already high in the sky by the time he began his walk from the Pitch to the school. Peter had run ahead to nick food from the kitchens and James always took his time in the shower.  
  
Moony had headed to the Shrieking Shack half way through the game, and was no doubt in full wolf form. Sirius wanted nothing more than to transform into Padfoot and join him immediately, but that would have to wait. Moony’s absence from the celebration would be suspicious enough.  
  
“All by yourself,” a voice to the left of him sneered. Sirius instinctively reached for his wand, as Snape continued, “I’m surprised you can find your way back without your friends.”  
  
“Yes, well, I’m surprised you can see through that greasy hair of yours, Snivellus, so I suppose wonders never cease.”  
  
“Of course,” Snape said, eyes looking pointedly at the Whomping Willow, “it’s no wonder that Lupin isn’t here, is it?”  
  
Caught off guard, Sirius could only dumbly say, “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” his fingers tightening around his wand.  
  
“Don’t I? Because it seems pretty obvious to me, Black, where Lupin is, and frankly, as a student at this school, I feel it is my duty to inform everyone of his dirty, dark secret.” Snape’s voice dripped with victory and malice.  
  
Hatred knifed through Sirius. He stopped dead in his tracks, whipping around furiously. “If you breathe one word to anybody,” he threatened, wand pointed at Snape’s heart, “I will kill you.”  
  
Snape smiled triumphantly, his beady eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I should like very much to see you try that, Black,” he said. “Giving in to all that dark blood running through your veins?”  
  
Sirius pressed his lips together. His wand hand shook. “Don’t talk to me about dark blood, as if you’re not just itching to get out of here and join Voldemort. You don’t think I know what you and your fellow Slytherins do in that dungeon of yours?”  
  
“Oh,” said Snape casually, “We do hordes of wicked things, and your little brother partakes in them all.”  
  
“You stay the hell away from Regulus, you filthy, pathetic – “  
  
“So protective,” purred Snape. “But you can’t protect everyone, and when I find out what Lupin’s been up to – “  
  
“Why don’t you go push that knob and find out,” Sirius dared in an angry haze, pointing to the willow. “Do us all a favor.” He turned his back on Snape, too frustrated to be concerned that Snape might hex him, and stormed his way to Gryffindor, seething with hatred. Half way to the tower, he began to regret his words. But of course, Snape would never –  
  
No, the coward didn’t have the balls, but what if he…? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Nobody would be foolish enough to try and face a werewolf. It would serve the bastard right, of course, but still –  
  
Sirius grunted the password angrily at the Fat Lady and raged into the tower, which was in heavy celebration mode, lights blazing and laughter and drinking already in full swing.  
  
James’s smile was sparkling when he caught sight of Sirius. “What took you so long, mate?” he asked, shaking a butterbeer and popping it open, laughing when the foamy beverage burst forth.  
  
James sobered at the look on Sirius’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as Peter showed up at his elbow.  
  
Sirius shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just a run in with Snivellus.”  
  
“Bastard,” grumbled Peter immediately.  
  
Nodding in agreement, James asked, “What did he want?”  
  
“Spouting off his mouth about Moony again,” Sirius told them, moving to a corner of the room.  
  
“What about Moony?” James asked quietly, eyes showing real concern.  
  
“That he knew Remus was in the Shrieking Shack,” Sirius said in hushed tones, watching James’s eyes go pale with panic behind his glasses.  
  
“He said that he knew…he knows…filthy….” James’s anger was swift. “Should we tell Dumbledore that the little sneak…?” He swore loudly. “What did you tell him?”  
  
“That I’d kill him if he told anyone.”  
  
“Good.” James was nodding again. “Good,” he repeated. “Filthy son of a bitch. Would serve him right if he did find his way down there, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“I agree. That’s why I told him.”  
  
James stopped nodding, and looked at him sharply. “You told him what?”  
  
“I told him how to get in.”  
  
For one crazy moment, Sirius thought James was going to hit him. He glanced over at Wormtail, who was watching both of them cautiously.  
  
“What?” James whispered furiously. “Sirius, no, no you didn’t…”  
  
“But he’d never actually go there, right? I mean he doesn’t have – “  
  
James’s eyes flashed angrily at him. “You had better be right, Sirius, because if you’re wrong, Snape’ll be dead, and Remus will have killed him.”  
  
James spun towards the portrait hole, shooting once last angry look at Sirius before disappearing into the hallway.  
  
*  
  
It was the longest night Sirius had ever lived through.  
  
He clutched the map in his shaking hand, watching dots labeled Severus Snape and Remus Lupin rest perfectly still. Other dots around them, labeled Madame Pomfrey, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew zipped about on the parchment. Finally, when the dots had settled, he went to wait outside the infirmary. James finally stepped into the hall, his eyes heavy with anger and exhaustion, his glasses crooked.  
  
Sirius rushed to him. “How-“ he began.  
  
James put up his hand. His eyes cut into Sirius like razors. “Don’t,” he said.  
  
“Prongs,” pleaded Sirius, “please just tell me how he is?”  
  
“Snape or Remus?”  
  
“Moony.”  
  
“Other than the scratches and broken bones, you mean, from spending the night alone as the wolf? How do you think he is, Sirius? God, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”  
  
Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. “As if you’ve never done anything to Snape before!” he growled accusingly.  
  
James ran his hands through his hair in what Sirius recognized as a gesture of exasperation. “Not anymore, Sirius. Not now. Not with everything that’s happening out there. We’re not kids, anymore. And this is life and death we’re talking about and what you can’t seem to understand is – “  
  
“He deserved it,” Sirius cut in harshly. “You don’t think, the _second _he leaves here, that he’s not going to run to Voldemort and join his little death brigade? You don’t think he wouldn’t kill you or Remus or me the second he had the opportunity?”  
  
James looked as if he was going to throttle Sirius. “What about Remus?” he asked, his eyes flashing horribly, his voice dangerously low. “Did he deserve it?”  
  
Sirius recoiled. “I never meant to hurt Remus,” he said quickly.  
  
“No,” said James, “you never do mean to do much of anything, do you, Sirius? You’re a child, a selfish child who still hasn’t managed to grow up. You thought of no one but yourself, how much you wanted to get back at Snape, how much you hated him, but you never thought about Remus, about the guilt he feels now, about how everyone is going to know the one thing he’s ashamed of, and you put it out there, all because of a school boy grudge. You didn’t think about him at all, his pride or his feelings or his anything. You know, your parents would be so proud of you right now - ”  
  
Sirius swung, his fist connecting with James’s nose and glasses, as a satisfying crunch met his ears. He had only a second to regain his balance from the force of throwing his body forward, when James rushed him, head low, slamming Sirius back against the wall with a loud, shattering thud. James threw the next punch, and another thud sounded in Sirius’s head, as James’s hand snapped his head to the side. He fell to the ground, putting his hands over his face.  
  
James’s shadowy form loomed over him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave him alone.” James spat blood on the ground next to Sirius.  
  
Through streaming eyes, Sirius watched James bend down and pick up his broken glasses, and walk away.  
  
*  
  
He was so pale.  
  
“Remus…”  
  
Light eyes opened slowly, and just looked at him.  
  
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”  
  
“It’s too late, Sirius,” Remus said in a very quiet voice. “I bit him, and I might be sent away from school.”  
  
“No! It was my fault, they have to understand that.”  
  
“Do you think the students’ parents are going to care that you sent him to me?” His voice was so hoarse. “All they’ll care about is that a werewolf was allowed near their children. You of all people should know how deep prejudice runs, Sirius, and you of all people should have… “ His voice broke, just slightly, and it was all Sirius could do not to rush to him. “I trusted you. I loved you. And this is how you repay me?”  
  
“I didn’t think…”  
  
“No, you didn’t.” Remus’s quiet disappointment was worse than James’s screams. It would be easier if he shouted, but Remus wouldn’t, even if he could after a night of howling.  
  
“No, I didn’t, but you have to believe me that I never meant –“  
  
“You _knew _what would happen,” Remus accused, his eyes glistening and haunted. “You knew it, that I would attack him, and you sent him down.”  
  
“Remus,” he begged, real tears springing into his eyes, “please. I only wanted him to – I don’t know why I did it.”  
  
“I bit him,” Remus said, voice shaking, “I turned him into a monster. I did to him what I would never wish on my worst enemy, and I did it because of you. You need to leave.”  
  
Sirius let out a horrible sob. “No, please, you have to - I would never – oh, God,” he heard himself cry out. “Why did I do it? Remus, you know that I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. I love you. I just – I don’t know why I did it. I hate him. I hate the things he says about you, and they way he looks at you, and I just – “ He stopped suddenly, finding himself standing close to Remus, whose expression had shifted from anger to pity.  
  
Remus shook his head, sadly.  
  
“You… I can’t look at you right now, Sirius. Just get out of my sight. Please, Sirius, just leave.” His eyes were terrible and weighty with anguish, and full of such pain that all Sirius could think was, I did that. I did that.  
  
I did that.  
  
He nodded. “I’m so sorry,” he said, very quietly, before exiting the infirmary. He went straight to the gargoyle outside Dumbledore’s office and sat down to wait for the headmaster. He laid his head on his drawn up knees, heedless of the blood caked on his face or the pain that pounded in his head, and let out a wail, as his chest began to shake.  
  
*  
  
Everything was broken. His wand had been snapped in half when they expelled him. The look in Dumbledore’s eyes when he’d explained that Snape – a newly made werewolf – was being sent to America had told him that he had lost his former headmaster’s trust. His friendships, his family, had been split in two.  
  
His dreams had shattered, the life he had seen blooming before him now nothing but a withered whisper.  
  
And his heart, that had been broken as well.  
  
Rotten to the core, his mother had always said, and it looked as if he’d finally managed to prove her right. He didn’t return home, knowing his mother’s screeches would be too much to bear. He’d always fantasized about leaving that old, rank house for good, moving in with James and his parents, traveling the world with Remus.  
  
Only now, no one wanted him, and he had no place to go.  
  
*  
  
He took a job at the Leaky Cauldron. For a year, he poured drinks and wiped down tables and broke up fights without much incident, working off his room and board and pocketing some extra cash. Tom didn’t ask questions, and Sirius was happy to do the work, monotonous though it was, if every night, after the lights turned off, he was able to drink himself to sleep.  
  
When he turned seventeen he inherited enough money to live a life free of work. He bought a wand and stashed the rest in Gringotts, continuing to keep the bar.  
  
The world darkened, and Sirius found that he could wipe down the bar, and pour drinks, and break up fights, and give little thought to anything else. June came and went, and he hardly wasted much thought on his friends, leaving Hogwarts’ sheltered fortress to face the raging war. News about old school mates trickled into the bar: James had married Lily Evans, with Remus as their best man; Snape was still in America, working at an apothecary; Peter had taken a low-level job in the Ministry.  
  
And Sirius continued to tend bar.  
  
*  
  
When Remus walked in to Leaky Cauldron, almost four years to the day that Sirius had walked out of the infirmary, Sirius reacted as if he’d been expecting him, though the shock of it hit him hard, like a Bludger to the head. He was still too thin, and his clothes were still too worn, but his eyes held a sort of fire, as if he had purpose.  
  
And they showed no surprise to see Sirius behind the bar, though he continued on without pause, walking directly to a table in the back and sharing a bottle of wine with a man Sirius didn’t recognize, though he looked remarkably like a younger version of Dumbledore.  
  
Remus left without acknowledging Sirius.  
  
*  
  
Three times, the same day every week, Remus came and met with the man, sharing a bottle of wine, and three times, the same day every week, Sirius trembled with jealousy and guilt and a longing so acute he didn’t think he could bear it.  
  
He never asked to switch his shift.  
  
*  
  
The fourth week, Remus offered him a nod.  
  
The fifth, a smile.  
  
And the sixth, an almost-friendly hello.  
  
*  
  
“You never said goodbye,” came an accusation one day.  
  
Sirius, his head down at the bar, said, “You told me to get out of your sight.”  
  
A pause, and then, “I didn’t mean forever.”  
  
“Didn’t you?” He tilted his chin, finally meeting familiar, warm eyes.  
  
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Sirius held his breath. “I have to go,” Remus said, finally. “I’ll see you next week.” He gave a quick nod and walked out the door, the chime overhead ringing brightly.  
  
Sirius smiled and began wiping the bar down.  
  
*  
  
“Does James know what you do here?” Sirius asked one day, eyes leveled at Remus, who was sitting at the bar, nursing a butterbeer.  
  
Remus paused, suddenly finding the bar top interesting. “He knows that I come here once a week to exchange information,” he said.  
  
“Does he know about…us?”  
  
“What about us?” Remus asked, head jerking up to look at Sirius.  
  
Sirius gestured somewhat helplessly. ‘That we… talk…”  
  
Remus cleared his throat and Sirius waited expectantly. “No,” he confessed simply. “He wouldn’t understand.”  
  
“He wouldn’t?”  
  
“I’m not sure I understand myself,” Remus admitted. “Sometimes I feel as if I shouldn’t allow myself your…your friendship,” he said, though his eyes were heavy with more than the promise of friendship and Sirius felt his breath catch, “because of what you did…Sirius, but then…maybe I’m weak, because seeing you again. I don’t want to be without you, not anymore.”  
  
Sirius hesitated. “About what I did…” he began, afraid to bring it up, but too afraid to never make amends.  
  
“You already apologized,” Remus stopped him. “There’s no need to do it again.”  
  
*  
  
A map spread over the bar, and Remus and Sirius both leaned in over it. Their hands brushed, and Sirius felt his skin ignite, and he kept it there. Remus’s skin was warm, and the sudden heat in his eyes made Sirius’s mouth go dry.  
  
“Where to first then?” Sirius asked, trying to ignore the dizzy spell that threatened to send him pleasantly into circles.  
  
“First to Romania,” Remus said, pointing to it on the map, “to meet with an informant. Then to Italy, and we’ll get news from there.”  
  
“We’ll,” said Sirius. Remus was being sent on a mission for Dumbledore, and he had asked Sirius, rather stammering and hesitant, if he would like to accompany him.  
  
“Yes, _we’ll _go from there,” Remus said, eyes crinkling at the corner. Sirius could hardly contain the smile that split his face.  
  
“And you’ll tell James?” he asked.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Remus promised. “When he gets back from his trip. Lily and Harry are staying with Peter tonight, and James plans to go right over there. I’ll tell them all at the same time, that we’ve been….” Sirius watched him blush slightly, and he hid a smile. “And that you’re coming with me.”  
  
“How do you think they’ll take it?” Sirius asked, knowing their reaction would be horribly negative, at best. Would they keep Remus away from him, talk him out of it?  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Remus assured him, as if sensing his fear. “We’ll go together, no matter what.”  
  
“No matter what,” Sirius repeated.  
  
*  
  
His bags were already packed. He had given Tom his notice.  
  
It was the last time he’d open the bar. The last time he’d set the stools upright on the newly-swept floor. The last time he’d pour drinks for rowdy patrons. The last night he’d spend in war-riddled England, watching everyone around him grow shadowed and cold as the battles grew brighter.  
  
The entrance bell jingled, and Sirius looked up. Not even the pouring rain outside could keep the wide smile from his face.  
  
“I have a delivery for a Sirius Black,” said a young girl at the entrance, auburn hair plastered thickly to her head.  
  
Sirius watched as she pulled a letter from the confines of her sopping, navy robes. His name was scrawled on it in familiar handwriting. His smile grew wider as he took it from her, replacing the letter with a knut and a casual thank you, as she turned to head once more into the rain.  
  
Eagerly, he unfolded the note.  
  
And his smile disappeared.  
  
The writing was sloppy and the note was brief. Sirius clutched it, looking disbelievingly at the familiar script:  
  
_Padfoot,  
  
Lily and Peter have been killed. James and Harry need me right now. I have to leave with them.  
  
Moony. _  
  
The words blurred before Sirius’s eyes. As if from far away, head still bent in disbelief, he heard Tom come hobbling down the stairs. “You doing all right, there, young man?” he asked gruffly.  
  
Sirius stared at the slip of parchment. “Yeah,” he said hollowly. He glanced up. “Tom? You ever think about selling this place? Maybe retiring somewhere that isn’t in England?”  
  
“All the time,” admitted Tom in his smoke-thickened voice. “No one’s actually foolish enough to buy a bar in the middle of a war zone, though, are they?” he asked wearily, tying an apron around his thickening waist.  
  
Sirius looked at him. “I’ll make you a very good offer,” he said. He crumbled the letter and tossed it in the rubbish bin._  
  
*  
  
Sirius stared hard and gloomily at the bar before him; the sharp ache of that day had mellowed into a dull, throbbing feeling in his stomach, but it had never disappeared.  
  
The charm above the door sounded and without turning around, Sirius mumbled into his drink, “We’re closed.”  
  
“I can actually see that,” came the soft voice. “Though you should probably learn to lock your door.” Sirius spun dizzily around to see Remus, his white robes wrinkled and hanging limply, as if he’d hastily thrown them on, walking towards him.  
  
“Come to explain yourself?” Sirius said, taking another sip of burning whiskey and stumbling off his stool. “Because I don’t really want to hear it.”  
  
Remus swept his eyes over Sirius. “No,” he said, and Sirius was certain there was a hint of confusion in his face. Maybe he had forgot all about their plans, in the wake of whatever he seemed to have with James.  
  
The thought of Remus and James made Sirius wince. “I’m kind of busy, right now, as you can see.” He gestured to the empty room at large. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to sit and reminisce with you. Besides, you already had your _friendly_ reunion, didn’t you?”  
  
Though his eyesight was quickly blurring, he saw with perfect clarity the blank expression that slipped across Remus’s face, his pale eyes turning ice cold. “I suppose I did,” Remus said. “I just came to say, that…that I’m sorry to see what’s happened to you, Sirius. I had hoped for better for you. I’d hoped you were at least happy.”  
  
Sirius snorted. “You wanted no such thing,” he slurred, vaguely aware that he was swaying precariously on his feet. He had enough of his wits about him to know that he didn’t want Remus to witness his total breakdown. “You once told me to get out of your sight,” he said, in a voice as cruel as he could muster, “and I did. Now I’ll ask you to return the favor.”  
  
He didn’t wait to see if Remus complied, just sat heavily back on his stool and poured himself another generous drink, sloshing a good portion of it on the bar as he brought the glass to his lips.  
  
He didn’t hear Remus walk out, but he felt it just the same.


	5. 5

V

 

“My guess is that Black has the object in question.” Horace propelled his belly around his office, circling the large globe resting on the floor, and navigating his way past his prized antique buffet, to finally stop behind the large mahogany desk, a tray balanced in his hands. He scowled. Serving people really wasn’t in his job description. 

 

“We’ll have to ask for it back, then, won’t we?” Dolores Umbridge simpered, watching him calmly as he nearly collided with the curio cabinet in the corner. He stopped short, breathing heavily. Some of his favorite trinkets were in that cabinet. It certainly wouldn’t do to knock it over.

 

He turned to the desk, setting the tray down noisily. “Sugar?” he asked.

 

“Two.”

 

Adding two cubes to the ridiculously feminine china Umbridge had brought along with her, and one to his own – he had a figure to watch, after all – Horace shook his head. He grimaced as a cat winked at him from a saucer.

 

“Black’s tricky,” he commented, eyeing the cat in disgust. “I’ve never quite been able to figure him out.” Steam ribbonned into the air as he poured the dark tea, feeling a tad put out that she hadn’t even commented on the beautiful teapot he had acquired on his last trip to Madrid. “Money won’t work on him, nor will bribes, and he has no loved ones to speak of. He’s a bit of a sentimental fool, though, if you can find the right angle.” 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Umbridge gave a tinkling laugh, taking the cup and saucer Horace offered and sipping delicately. “Did I say ask him for it? I meant to say, we’ll have to _take_ it back.” She moved to set her saucer down on the desk. Horace winced as it sloshed dangerously close to his favorite gold clock.

 

He sat heavily in his chair, bringing the fragile cup to his lips. “A raid then?”

 

“As soon as possible, yes.”

 

“I’ll send someone over today.”

 

“Mr. Slughorn,” interrupted a young woman with neatly starched robes and curly red hair, waiting in the doorway. “Your ten o’clock has arrived.”

 

“Right on time. Thank you, Marietta,” he said. “Send them in, please, if you will?” 

 

She nodded. So young, Horace thought. If Hogwarts were still open, she might still be in school, one of his students. And speaking of students…

 

“Mr. Potter,” Horace said cordially, rising, “Mr. Lupin. How kind of you both to join us this morning. I trust you slept well?”

 

Both men gave guarded smiles and weary nods. For a moment, Horace felt a tinge of something like regret, but the feeling passed in an instant. These were not the times to worry about morality or past concerns. To live any sort of decent life, one had to stick with the winning side, and Horace lived a very decent life, indeed.

 

He gestured to the squashy chairs before his desk. Just because he often had unpleasant business dealings inside his office was no reason for his guests to be uncomfortable. “Won’t you sit, please? Would you like a cuppa?”

 

“No, thank you,” answered Remus Lupin for both of them. “We’d prefer to get on with it.”

 

Horace shrugged and took his seat, turning to Umbridge. “Shall we proceed, then?”

 

She took her time, of course, sipping her tea for a few quiet moments and studying the men before her. Her bug eyes gleamed in the warm light shining from the lamp on the desk. “Very well,” she said after a long while, “as I’m certain you are aware, gentlemen, your names have been on our list for quite some time, over a decade now, and you’ve managed to elude us for just as long. You’ve done quite a good job of it, actually. But you’re in Diagon Alley, now, and it is my job to see that you remain here.”

 

“A difficult job,” James Potter commented, as calmly as if discussing the blazing sunshine outside the office. “As you’ve no grounds to keep us here.”

 

“Not at all,” said Umbridge. “As you must know, the only open fireplace with an active Floo port is under Horace Slughorn’s control.” She nodded to Horace. “Do you suppose there will be any way for these two to gain access, Mr. Slughorn?”

 

Horace shook his head, regretfully. “I’m afraid that is out of the question.”

 

“Any other way out of here will be, I’m sad to say, highly illegal,” continued Umbridge, her voice growing sweeter as she spoke, “and if you are caught, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you, regrettable as it would be for me.”

 

“Arrest us on what grounds?” asked Potter.

 

“Oh,” said Umbridge, a hint of a threat in her smile. “I’m certain we’ll think of something.”

 

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to stay in London, won’t we?” said Remus Lupin. He and Potter exchanged a glance.

 

“Is that all?” asked Potter, preparing to uncross his legs.

 

“Do not be so eager to rush off,” said Umbridge, a little triumphantly. “You may be held in London indefinitely, with no hope of helping your son, or.” She paused, clearly savoring the moment. Horace glanced surreptitiously at Potter’s face, surprised to see it a mask of calm. “You may leave here tomorrow, and will be free to take young Harry with you.”

 

“Where is Harry now?” asked Lupin. 

 

“On his way to Hogwarts,” Umbridge answered simply. “But we can bring him back. You know the location of Order Headquarters in Dublin, Capri, St. Petersburg…”

 

“And in Budapest and Berlin,” offered Potter with his head titled to one side, his face still showing no emotion. He met Umbridge’s eyes calmly.

 

“Give them to us,” said Umbridge, leaning eagerly into the conversation. She was practically salivating all over the intricately woven area rug Horace had had shipped all the way from China. “And we’ll make certain your son is returned safely to you.”

 

Potter considered this. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to do that,” he said eventually. 

 

The shock in Umbridge’s face mirrored what Horace felt. “You do know what horrors await the boy at Hogwarts?” he asked, quite unable to help himself.

 

Potter remained impassive. It was Lupin who answered. “Harry is old enough to face the consequences of his actions,” he said. He too uncrossed his legs. 

 

“Is _that_ all?” Potter repeated. He stood without waiting for a reply.

 

“One more thing,” said Umbridge. “I’ve been informed that you were meant to meet with Regulus Black last night.”

 

“He’s an old friend from school, yes,” answered Potter. “We were hoping to catch up.”

 

“We took him into custody, as I’m certain you already know,” Umbridge said. She remained seated, relaxing back into her chair.

 

Potter nodded. “May we see him?”

 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He was killed last night,” Umbridge informed him, unable to keep the victory out of her voice. 

 

“A horrible incident,” interjected Horace, studying his teacup interestedly. “He tried to escape.”

 

He raised his eyes to find Potter and Lupin staring at him, satisfied to finally see surprise in their eyes. “Are we quite finished?” Lupin asked eventually. 

 

Umbridge nodded. “You are free to go.”

 

Giving only cursory nods, the two men left. Horace watched them go. “Their next step will be trying to gain exit using one of the black market Floos,” he said, when the door had shut firmly behind them, “though they’ll likely try to get in touch with Black tonight.”

 

“You’ll have to shut them down, then, won’t you?” said Umbridge. She pushed herself heavily to her feet. “I’ll expect to be informed when the raid has taken place. Until then.” She turned, and without looking back, walked out the door.

 

Horace stayed behind his desk. A moment later, Marietta appeared in the doorway. “Your next appointment is here, Sir,” she said. “A girl about an exit visa.”

 

“Send her in, please,” he called. His work was never finished.

 

*

 

The August morning dawned heavy with the promise of heat, and Sirius found himself unable to sleep away his hangover. He stepped into the harsh light of day, deciding a strong cup of coffee would probably help curb his throbbing head.

 

Diagon Alley was a riot of sparkling color, with more people than usual taking advantage of the sunlight. Exotic scents met his nostrils, cinnamon and cumin and perfumes from far away lands. A cacophony of noise hit his ears; birds squawked loudly from cages, and owls – all now with tracking collars – hooted their melancholy calls. Friendly shouts echoed loudly in the space, as people bartered over goods, second hand robes, old cauldrons, magical herbs and other necessities. Money exchanged hands. It all made Sirius’s head spin, and his hangover thumped violently in his veins. 

 

The bell chimed when he walked into Fortescue’s. Mundungus Fletcher, his baggy eyes greedily sizing up those around him, sat with his short legs before him, smoking a pipe rather contentedly. His eyes lit upon Sirius, and he waved him over.

 

“Dung,” Sirius nodded, slipping into the seat across from him. “Up rather early this morning, aren’t you?” 

 

“I could say the same about you, eh?” said Mundungus, scraggly, ginger head returning the nod. “Got me a bit of a business meetin’,” he mumbled around his pipe. “You know the type, always up before noon.”

 

Sirius cracked a weak smile. He had a pretty decent notion of whom Dung was meeting. He nodded when the waiter brought over a thick mug of coffee. “Heard anything good lately?” he asked Dung when the kid had left.

 

“That I have,” he answered, a smug little smile on his face. He took his pipe out of his mouth and leveled his gaze at Sirius. “Something about a locket gone missing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

 

Sirius sipped his coffee, remaining silent. 

 

“Didn’t think so,” said Dung, “though I happen to know a good many men who would kill for that trinket yer not resting on.”

 

“It’s a good thing I don’t have it, then,” replied Sirius, taking another hot sip from his mug, “lest I put my life on the line.”

 

“You don’t fool me, you know.” Dung checked behind his shoulder, as if waiting to see a Death Eater standing there. “You have heard about your brother, then?” he asked, almost inaudibly.

 

Sirius nodded, very slowly. “I know he was arrested last night. I saw it happen.”

 

Dung’s lazy eyes showed something like shock. “On yer way to Gringotts then?”

 

“We both know I can’t help him now.”

 

Sitting back once again in his chair, Dung plopped his pipe back in his mouth. It clanged against his teeth. He studied Sirius for just a minute. “That locket could help a lot of people,” he mentioned after a moment. “I’m bettin’ Regulus knew that.”

 

“Regulus knew how much gold it was worth,” Sirius said coldly. “That was his only concern.”

 

“So, he was concerned about it?”

 

“I imagine he was,” Sirius said, standing from his spot. He reached into his light summer robes and threw a Galleon on the table. “Stop in for a drink sometime, Dung.”

 

“Will do,” said Dung. “See you around, Sirius.”

 

Once back into the sunlight, Sirius fished out a cigarette with a shaking hand. Down the street, Gringotts shone splendidly, the sunlight bouncing off of it in a prism of colors. He’d known last night that Regulus would never again step foot outside of the prison, and Regulus must have known it as well. He swallowed, shaking his head slightly, his eyes squinty against the sun. There was no way to help his brother now. 

 

Two men walking down the marble steps of the prison caught his eye. In the sharp sunlight, they both looked different, more angular somehow, older and prouder.

 

Sirius shifted quickly, moving underneath a canopied shop, watching as James made his way to Fortescue’s with a sort of studied casual grace, while Remus stepped into a used book store across the way.

 

Sirius shot a hurried glance at Fortescue’s, crushed his cigarette beneath his foot, and followed Remus. 

 

It was musty and the light was dim, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He saw Remus glance over to see him, surprise evident in his eyes, just before his face closed completely and he turned to examine the books lined up against the wall with considerable interest.

 

Without pause, Sirius walked over to him. “I should probably apologize for my behavior last night,” he said, without preamble. 

 

Remus nodded, keeping his eyes trained towards the wall. “Apology accepted,” he said tightly.

 

Sirius nodded as well. He clucked his tongue, once. “These books are all ridiculously overpriced,” he noted, leaning close to examine a price tag. “I know a much better shop a few streets over.”

 

“I’m certain you do,” Remus said. “If you’ll excuse me.” He plucked a book from the wall, and began to turn away. 

 

Sirius shot a hand out to grab his wrist. “Why did you come back last night?”

 

Remus bent his head, eyes on his wrist. “It’s not important anymore.” 

 

Beneath Sirius’s fingers, Remus’s pulse sped up. Sirius squeezed his wrist slightly. “I wasn’t – it was a bad night,” he said. “But if you had something to tell me, I’ll listen to you now.”

 

Remus lifted his gaze from his wrist to look Sirius in the eye. “Your brother is dead,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

 

Sirius quickly let go of his wrist. He swallowed. “Is that what you came to tell me?”

 

“No,” Remus said, “what I came to tell you is hardly important anymore, is it?” Remus studied him as if puzzled. “Don’t you even care?” he said. “About your brother?”

 

“Regulus and I didn’t know each other anymore, if we ever did at all. He never paid for his whiskey, but beyond that, he was just another customer in my bar, a customer who spent most of his days in Voldemort’s service, if you’ll remember correctly.”

 

“Did you ever try to know him?” asked Remus.

 

Sirius ignored him. He couldn’t think about Regulus right now. He just couldn’t. “I wasn’t ready to listen last night,” he tried again, “but I’ll listen now.”

 

Remus’s pale eyes looked sadly at him. “The Sirius I used to know, he would have listened last night, no matter what. He would be mourning his brother’s death, no matter how wide the rift between them. But you, you are a stranger to me, now. I don’t know you at all anymore.”

 

“Not like you know James, you mean,” Sirius said darkly.

 

Remus gave a heavy sigh. “James has nothing to do with this.”

 

“Is he your lover?” Sirius asked, before he could stop himself. 

 

Remus’s eyes changed, grew darker. “If he is, it’s no concern of yours, I assure you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.”

 

He put his book down on a table and walked out the door, leaving Sirius to stare after him, alone in a musty room.

 

*

 

“We’ll figure out a way,” Remus said softly, feeling like a broken record. James sat on the bed, knees planted wide apart, elbows on his knees and hands grasping at his hair. Very few people were allowed the privilege of seeing him so openly vulnerable, his glasses forgotten on the bed so that his face appeared strangely naked, his usually crisp robes in need of a good ironing charm, his hair in more disarray than usual. God, but he was handsome, even in this posture of defeat.

 

Remus’s heart broke, just a little. He loved Harry so very much that often he felt as if Harry were his own. But James… loved Harry with the sort of desperation that came from knowing how easily loved ones can be ripped away. James put his whole life on the line, more than once, to end the war that took his wife and give his son a chance to live in a world where he was free to walk around in his own country without fearing for his life.

 

And it looked as the chance had been taken away, though Remus would never say so aloud. 

 

He padded silently across the hotel room’s cheaply made carpet, sinking next to James, and put his hand on James’s knee. James inclined his head, just slightly, so that it rested against Remus’s shoulder, and they sat there, for fifteen minutes, then twenty, in silent commissary. 

 

Eventually, James drew in a deep breath. “I know we will,” he said. He turned his face fully towards Remus, who leaned in and brushed his lips with his own in a familiar gesture.

 

“We’ll just do it without the locket,” Remus said, with more confidence than he felt. He watched James slip his glasses back on, his eyes pointing with more focus towards Remus’s face. Without giving it much thought, Remus reached up a hand and straightened them fully on James’s nose.

 

James shook his head, his eyes growing darker. “No, we won’t,” he said. “Sirius has the locket, at least according to Dung.”

 

Remus stiffened slightly, as James continued. “It looks like it’s time for me to have a heart to heart with our old friend.”

 

“Even if he has it,” said Remus, hiding the tremor in his voice and shifting away from James, his hands shaking slightly, “do you really think he’ll give it to us?”

 

James looked lost in thought for a moment. Selfish though it was, Remus often had to remind himself that he was not he only one who’d loved and lost Sirius. James had loved him, too, perhaps in different ways, but just as strongly. 

 

“I may not agree with many of the choices Sirius has made,” James said, “but he was once our best friend. I have to believe he’ll make the right decision, if given the right persuasion.”

 

“What sort of persuasion did you have in mind?”

 

“Money.”

 

“Sirius won’t care about money.”

 

James pushed up from the bed. He looked in control of his emotions once again. He aimed his wand at himself and whispered a charm that had his robes smoothing themselves out instantly. 

 

“Do you think he’ll care about friendship then?”

 

Remus was doubtful, but James was stubborn to a fault, and his eyes held a determined glint. “You can try,” was all Remus said to him.

 

“I plan to,” said James.

 

*

 

He couldn’t keep still. He had positioned himself at the bar, keeping one eye trained on the front entrance as he served cognac and fizzy champagne, his hands shaking all the while. Bent low over the well tray, wiping down the bottles with a damp cloth, Sirius couldn’t stop his mind from racing. 

 

Would they come in again? Could he get Remus alone? Would Remus snub him? Would they - 

 

“I’d like a whiskey, please. Straight up.”

 

Sirius jumped slightly, knocking over a bottle. He bent to right it and looked over at the tiny, freckled girl perched on a high stool at the bar. She couldn’t be older than sixteen. He scowled. “Are you even old enough to be in here?” he asked impatiently.

 

Her bright brown eyes flashed stubbornly, and Sirius moved to pour her the drink. “Plenty old enough,” she replied, tossing back her shoulders and lifting the glass. She swallowed its contents in one big gulp. Her cheeks heated slightly, but she neither grimaced nor coughed. 

 

Sirius laughed admiringly. “I can see that,” he said. “Another?”

 

Nodding, she asked, “Are you Mr. Black?” as she scooted her glass towards him.

 

“I am, though I prefer Sirius. Mr. Black reminds me too much of my father.”

 

The young girl regarded him frankly. “I’m Ginny,” she said after a moment, thrusting her hand over the bar. “Horace Slughorn told me you were the man to talk to.”

 

Shaking her hand a little cautiously, Sirius glanced behind Ginny to see Slughorn watching with somewhat greedy eyes.

 

“Did he?” he said with apprehension heavy in his voice. “What about?”

 

“To see if he was a trustworthy person.” 

 

Sirius glared over her shoulder at Slughorn, who shrugged in mock innocence. “Did he send you to ask me that?” 

 

“He did,” Ginny said. She gave an ironic smile, lowering her voice. “I’m not foolish enough to think he doesn’t already know what your answer will be, but I must ask anyway. You see….”

 

She blinked and her face shifted, suddenly open and earnest. “My brother and I, we’re in need of two exit visas, and Mr. Slughorn says he’ll get them for us, but we don’t have much money. We…we only have our parents’ wedding bands, heirlooms, really. Mr. Slughorn promises they will pay our way out.”

 

“And your parents?” Sirius asked, already guessing by the look on her face what the answer would be. “They don’t object to selling their rings?”

 

“No,” she said. ‘They don’t.”

 

Sirius nodded in understanding. “Where’s your brother now?”

 

“Losing money at your roulette table,” Ginny said. For a brief, wild moment, she looked the picture of an annoyed sibling. Sirius hid a smile.

 

“Your last name is Weasley, isn’t it? The hair’s a dead give-away.” He frowned, vaguely. He had known a few Weasleys at Hogwarts.

 

“It is,” said Ginny, nodding. She reached into her robes, pulling out a tiny, velvet box, and placing it on the bar between them.

 

Sirius was silent. His memory flashed back to a tapestry hanging on a wall of his childhood home, the name Weasley blasted from it. 

 

“I know they aren’t much,” Ginny continued on intently, unconcerned by Sirius’s silence, her fingers tracing lightly over the box, “but they’re all we have left. Ron would be devastated if they – but it’s not as if we won’t have their memories – oh, but he’d be so mad. I could tell him I’ve lost them, don’t you think? Then he’d never really have to know, and we could leave here, finally.” She laid trusting eyes on Sirius, as if he had some sort of answer.

 

Sirius sighed heavily. “If Slughorn tells you giving him the rings will get you out of Britain, he’ll keep his word,” he told her. 

 

He watched her face fall slightly, though her eyes took on a determined sort of glint. She nodded again. “Thank you, Mr. – Sirius. How much do I owe you?”

 

“It’s on the house,” Sirius said, already walking away from her. He was not responsible for every woebegone child who came into his bar. It certainly wasn’t his fault her parents had died. She and her brother would be fine. It was just not in his job description to fix this kid’s problems. But the look upon her face - 

 

He weaved through his customers, stopping beside a pillar and leaning his back against it.

 

A boy no more than eighteen sat at the roulette table, his ears glowing red, though whether with anger or embarrassment Sirius couldn’t tell. Sirius glanced over his shoulder; both Slughorn and Ginny were watching him closely, amused acceptance and confusion evident upon their faces, respectively.

 

He walked behind the kid - Ron, his sister had called him - and bent down low. “How’s lady luck treating you, young man?”

 

Ron cast a quick, impatient glance his way, eyes flashing annoyance in Sirius’s direction.

 

“Not very nicely,” he said, a little sullenly, though he straightened his shoulders somewhat. “I think she gave up on me, actually.”

 

Sirius nodded. “Throw what you’ve got left on red twenty-two,” he instructed, aiming a glance at Wood behind the wheel.

 

Though he looked confused, Ron moved his chips to the place directed, mumbling something about having nothing left to lose anyway. “Red twenty-two!” called out Wood.

 

Ron shot a surprised glance in Sirius’s direction. “What -?” 

 

“Keep ‘em there,” Sirius said.

 

Wood called out the number again, and Ron’s eyes grew bigger. An amazed smile crossed his face. He went to nod again, to tell Wood to spin the wheel once more.

 

“Know when to call it quits, kid.” Sirius grasped his shoulder, just slightly. Slughorn was watching the scene with a bemused sort of smile, while Ron gathered up his winnings clumsily. 

 

Ginny just smiled at Sirius, her eyes shining with admiration. It made him highly uncomfortable. He aimed a glare in her direction, causing her to smile just a lit bit more.

 

“I stood to gain a lovely set of rings from them, you know,” Slughorn commented, no rancor in his voice as he moved closer to Sirius.

 

“You’ll find others to prey upon soon enough,” Sirius said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. 

 

“Still,” said Slughorn, “you owe me at least a drink from that. They really were gorgeous.”

 

Sirius laughed. “You’ve yet to pay for a drink here, old man. I’d consider us even.” He gave Slughorn a hearty slap on the back. 

 

“I’ve always said you were a schmaltzy old fool, Black.”

 

Sirius scowled. “I’ve just never been able to resist a pretty girl,” he said. 

 

“Ah, is that all? And all this time I was thinking –.” Slughorn stopped short, his gaze shifting behind Sirius. “Well, well, well,” he said. “You’ve decided to grace us with your presence two nights in a row.”

 

Sirius whipped around. James stood behind him, eyes leveled at Sirius. 

 

“If you don’t mind,” he said, “I was hoping for a word alone with you.” 

 

Behind James, Sirius caught Remus’s eye. He nodded casually at Sirius, as if he were just another acquaintance. And it hurt. Sirius nodded towards the stairs. “My office,” he said.


	6. 6

VI

 

“I need your help.”

 

Sirius smiled rather sardonically at him, and though James had been expecting this, the cruel mirth in Sirius’s eyes still came as something of a surprise. He pushed on. “Remus and I need your help.”

 

His smile still in place, Sirius lit a cigarette and puffed loudly on it, blowing the smoke in James’s direction. James fought the urge to cough. The office was sparsely decorated: a desk, two chairs, one large potted plant. No photographs hung from the walls, no expertly framed art or trinkets gave away anything about Sirius’s life. 

 

Sirius hadn’t invited him to take a seat. “What would give you the impression that I could be of any help, Potter? After all, revolution, that’s your thing, yes? I’m nothing more than a glorified bar keep.”

 

“You’re a businessman,” James noted. “You can appreciate an exchange of goods.” James laid his cards on the table. “You have something I want. The locket that was taken from Voldemort, your brother and Harry stole it together, and I’ve been led to believe Regulus gave it to you.”

 

“And you want it?”

 

“I need it.”

 

“An exchange of goods, yes,” said Sirius, nodding. “You need this locket, but how will you give me what I want?” 

 

“Name your price,” he said.

 

“What I want can’t be bought,” Sirius said, quickly, surprising James with the quiet anger in his voice. 

 

“What about what you need?” James asked. 

 

Sirius ignored the question. “An awful lot of fuss for a piece of jewelry,” he commented instead, leaning back against his desk, arms folded casually across his stomach. “What could it possibly be used for?”

 

James hesitated. Once, he would have told Sirius anything, without question. But now – 

 

“It contains a piece of Voldemort’s soul,” he admitted finally, thinking if he was going to do this, he would do it properly, and knowing that he had very little left to lose. “We’ve been traveling the world for almost twenty years now, locating and destroying the objects that Voldemort used to make himself immortal. This is the last one. If we can destroy it, we’ll have a shot at killing him and finally ending this war.”

 

“And at saving Harry.”

 

“Yes, and we might save my son.” 

 

Sirius’s fathomless grey eyes just looked at him. “I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he said finally, stabbing his cigarette into the ashtray. 

 

The floor seemed to disappear beneath James. He took a step back as if hit and blinked in surprise. “What?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Sirius said slowly, as if speaking to a child.

 

“Peoples’ lives are at stake,” James said superfluously, unable to fathom Sirius’s refusal. He watched Sirius turn away from him. “I thought... that you would… I thought you were better than this,” he said to Sirius’s shoulders.

 

Sirius laughed darkly, turning back to him with disbelief evident in his face. “No you didn’t, James. This is exactly how you expect me to react, isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t know you at all anymore,” James said sadly.

 

“On the contrary,” said Sirius. “You know me better than most. You once told me I’d never grow up, didn’t you? That I wasn’t worthy of your friendship, don’t you remember? You called me a selfish child who would have made my parents proud. Well, it looks like you were right.”

 

James shook his head. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I did call you selfish, but you nearly got Severus Snape killed.” The last twenty years melted away. All that anger, all that hurt and frustration, it poured out of him. “You nearly got me killed. And you have no idea what you did to Remus. You weren’t there, while he needed his friends. I was. You weren’t there when the guilt threatened to kill him. I was. You should have been, and you weren’t.”

 

“You told me to stay away!” Sirius exploded, taking a step closer to James. For a wild moment James thought Sirius might hit him, but he only lowered his voice. “You think I wasn’t there because you told me not to be there. But, I was there,” Sirius spit out. 

 

James felt his stomach hollow out. The floor of Sirius’s office shook slightly and James heard a great shout come from the bar below.

 

“I was there,” Sirius repeated over the raucous noise that had started, his eyes like lashes on James’s face. “Even when you told me to stay away. You just never saw me. You want to know why I won’t help? Ask Remus.”

 

“Remus…” started James. What did Remus have to do with this? The noise below was growing steadily louder.

 

“Ask him,” Sirius continued in his hard voice. “He’ll tell you why I won’t help you with your little cause. Now, if you don’t mind…” He walked to the door and yanked it open. A blast of noise met James’s ear. “I have a business to run.” 

 

James walked swiftly past Sirius, unable to look him in the eye for fear that he would pull his wand. His head spun and he closed his eyes for just a moment, trying to block out the sounds from below. He swallowed.

 

Maybe he didn’t know Remus as well as he thought.

 

The bar below was in total uproar. There were screams of terror, but a sort of mad laughter and cruel shouts of triumph over shadowed them. Down and across the bar, Dolores Umbridge sat at a table, her mouth spread in a wide smile of mirth, her eyes trained on the ceiling. James followed her gaze.

 

And then he saw it. That thing he saw almost every night when he shut his eyes, that thing that dredged up feelings of loss and despair.

 

A sickly green skull, its eyes full of brutality and murder, circled by a writhing, slithering snake. 

 

James walked down the stairs with heavy purpose, already pulling out his wand. I was there, Sirius had said. Remus, he saw, was standing impatiently, eyes darting between the Dark Mark and the door to Sirius’s office, panic marring his features.

 

James walked past him. He aimed his wand high. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” he shouted, loudly and clearly, bracing himself against the force of the spell.

 

Expansive, pearly white wings flapped forth, carrying a majestic phoenix. The bird shot towards the skull. For a moment, the scene was suspended, frozen before the bar - the Phoenix and the Snake – until the iridescent phoenix penetrated the green light so full of death, and dispersed it, taking a large, swooping circle around the room before dissipating.

 

The bar was silent.

 

And then a cheer went up through the crowd. James looked around. The fear that had shown on the faces of the people before him was now replaced with something alive and aglow: hope.

 

James glanced up behind him to see Sirius standing in the doorway to his office, dark eyes fixed on James. They shifted, moving to where Remus stood, and James turned to look at him. Remus was studying James, a familiar, open expression on his face. He smiled when he noticed James watching. And James couldn’t help but smile in return, feeling he’d won something important.

 

“That was a risky move, Potter.” He spun at the voice. Horace Slughorn stood watching him, something like begrudging admiration in his eyes. “With an illegal wand, no less.” He raised his voice. “Leave immediately,” he shouted, addressing the whole bar. “This establishment is to be closed until further notice.”

 

Feeling a smug sense of satisfaction, James glanced around. Umbridge’s eyes were trained calculatingly on him. “I’d watch your step if I were you,” Slughorn said, noticing his gaze. 

 

Remus placed a hand protectively on James’s shoulder. Without looking around again, James led the way out of the bar.

 

*

 

Loving Remus was easy: the shared pain over losing loved ones, the mutual need to keep Harry safe; the joint desire to end the war; the shared loss over Sirius’s betrayal. Sirius’s betrayal; _I was there._

 

“What did Sirius say?”

 

One light was on in their hotel room. The door was locked. The blinds were pulled shut. James walked over to the window, peering through the binds out into the abandoned street. A spotlight cut through the darkness. “We’re probably being followed.”

 

“Probably,” Remus agreed. “But what did Sirius say?”

 

James let the blinds snap shut. He turned to see Remus watching him, tension lining his face. 

 

“He suggested I ask you.”

 

“Ask me?” Remus said, eyes going wide.

 

James nodded. “He told me he wouldn’t help me, and that I ask you for the reason.”

 

He watched the play of emotions upon Remus’s face; something like guilt and resentment and recognition dawned all at once in his eyes.

 

“Were you and Sirius lovers?” James quietly asked him.

 

Remus hesitated, his jaw working. 

 

“I love you very much, you know that, Remus, don’t you?”

 

“I do,” said Remus. He nodded. “Yes, in school. For a while, Sirius and I, we were.”

 

“And that’s why he won’t help,” James surmised, surprised that the only jealousy he felt had to do with the two of them having a relationship he hadn’t been aware of. He wished he’d have paid more attention back then. Maybe he would have handled things differently. Maybe he would have - 

 

“No.” Remus’s voice stopped his thoughts. “That’s not why he’s refusing to help.”

 

“Then what it is?”

 

Remus exhaled loudly. “Before we left for Romania,” he began to explain, moving to sit in the chair by the desk. “Sirius and I had been planning… when I came into London once a week to gather information, I would meet up with Sirius, at the bar.” His spoke as if the memory was painful, and James moved on instinct, kneeling before him. “We… became friends again.”

 

“Lovers again?” 

 

“No, not, at least not physically. Though, that’s where it was headed. It’s where it would have lead, had we gone to Romania together.”

 

“We…”

 

“Sirius and I,” Remus said with some difficulty. “We had planned on his coming with me.”

 

“But then you left with me instead.” 

 

Thinking on that time was still painful for James, who could even now feel Lily’s prone body in his arms, her beautiful green eyes staring lifelessly at him. He’d lived that first year in a haze of grief and self-hatred for leaving Lily and Harry with Peter. He’d neglected everything, even his duties as father to Harry, in an effort to eradicate each and every dark wizard he could. It was Remus who took care of Harry, and eventually it was Remus who brought him back to the world of the living.

 

Remus nodded now, confirming that he had left Sirius to go with James, and though James could never feel guilty for needing Remus as much as he did at the time, he could still appreciate the loss of love Remus must have felt to go on without Sirius.

 

“I don’t regret leaving with you.” Remus’s voice held the same quiet conviction it always did. James smiled at his words.

 

“Why did you never tell me?” he asked. “Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”

 

“After what Sirius did in school –“

 

“That was so long ago,” James interrupted.

 

“It wasn’t then. It was still fresh in our minds. And I felt.” He struggled. “I felt as if I was betraying everything I should have held dear, allowing myself to forgive him so quickly. I bit Snape, but Sirius was the reason, and yet… that hardly mattered, when all I wanted was to be with him. I didn’t know how you could possibly understand when I didn’t understand myself.”

 

James smiled, albeit a little darkly. “Why do you think I sent you to Diagon Alley in the first place?” he asked. Remus looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t think I’d be able to treat him cruelly,” James admitted. “Sirius was like a brother to me, and I worried that seeing him again, and being able to forgive him would be a great betrayal to you. So in a decidedly selfish move, I sent you in my place.”

 

Remus laughed. “Not selfish,” he said, covering James’s hand with own, his warmth seeping into James. “You may have many flaws, James Potter, but you are one of the most selfless men I have ever had the fortune to know.” 

 

James placed his hand over Remus’s. “And it appears I must go be selfless once more,” he said. He would have liked very much to stay with Remus right now. Right now, he needed to be with him.

 

“Don’t go,” Remus said, and there was desperation in his voice. “Stay here tonight.”

 

“You know that I can’t,” he said regretfully. 

 

“Then I’ll go with you,” Remus said. He made as if to stand, to jump up immediately and follow James once more into the dark night.

 

“I was told to come alone,” James reminded him. 

 

“That’s hardly stopped us before.”

 

“No, but I don’t want to cause these people at the meeting anymore trouble than they already have. Most of them are kids, really. I’d hate to draw attention to them.” James paused. Remus look unconvinced. “I need to know that you’re still able to go on. Harry needs at least one of us alive.”

 

Remus acquiesced. He relaxed back into his chair, nodding. 

 

James stood. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

 

“Of course,” assured Remus. “When you get back.”

 

*

 

“Be careful.”

 

“You know I will be.”

 

Remus watched James shut the door behind him. He sat in the chair, eyes roving quietly about the hotel room, debating with himself.

 

James needed him. Harry needed him. There was no hope without the locket.

 

His wand was in his pocket. James would be half way to the meeting spot by now. Remus stood and went for the door. 

 

He walked with quiet determination, reassuring himself that this was the right thing to do. It was what he needed to do. 

 

Just as he’d hoped, Sirius had not bothered to lock his door again. The bar was dim, but he could hear shuffling from up above. Remus took one step, then another, intent upon his destination.

 

The room was dark, with moonlight slanting in through the window. Sirius sat at a desk, a bottle of something vile looking unopened next to a pack of cigarettes. His face was drawn in the moonlight, his dark hair a shock against his pale skin.

 

“I thought you had a meeting tonight, Pansy?” Sirius glanced towards the door. His eyes widened in astonishment. “What are you -? How did you get in?”

 

Remus gulped, pushing down familiar feelings that rose upon seeing Sirius in the blue moonlight. “Your door wasn’t locked, and I… I needed to see you.”

 

Sirius nodded. “Of course you did. Come about the locket, I imagine. Between you and James I can’t seem to get a moment’s peace.” He stood, his eyes shining mirthlessly. “How will you persuade me, Remus?” he asked, mouth curving into a cruel smile. “I suspect your method will be more enjoyable than James’s.” He paused. “And a tad more valuable.” He stalked his way closer to Remus, a cat after his prey, and Remus took a step back. 

 

“Padfoot, please….”

 

Sirius stopped. “So it’s Padfoot again.”

 

Remus paused. He hadn’t been aware that he – 

 

“I know you have the locket,” he said.

 

“I do,” confirmed Sirius.

 

“I must have it.”

 

Sirius shook his head. “I already covered this with your lover,” he said, his mouth going ugly on the last word. “I’m not interested in parting with the locket.”

 

“I’ll give you whatever price you name.”

 

Sirius eyes turned dark, and something hot rushed through Remus, leaving him light-headed. “It’s not for sale,” Sirius said.

 

Remus felt as if he were floundering. “”You have to understand how important it is, to us and to Harry. Sirius, please,” Remus begged, finally stepping in towards him. Sirius regarded him carefully. He made no move to step away and his eyes remained dark. “We were friends once. This cause, it was important to you once.”

 

“We were more than friends once,” Sirius reminded him. “And this cause… it’s no concern of mine. Things change,” Sirius said. “As you pointed out so kindly this morning, I’ve changed.”

 

“You can’t have changed that much, to not care at all for the many people who need this war to end.”

 

“You don’t know me anymore, Remus. The only person I’m concerned about is me.” He gestured to the door.

 

“You want to feel sorry for yourself, don’t you? That’s all you care about anymore. People are dying and you’re too concerned with your hurt ego and pride to be concerned about anyone else. But you brought this on yourself, this…this horrible existence you lead. You’re playing the part of the coward. “ Remus’s voice shook as he spoke. He couldn’t truly bear to look at Sirius, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

 

“Harry is going to die if we don’t help him. James will die in London if he and I don’t get out of here.”

 

Sirius reached over the desk and picked up his cigarettes. He lit one, turning away from Remus to stare out the window. Remus wondered what he saw out there, that was so worth holding on to this life. 

 

He really had no choice now. He needed that locket. Remus reached into his robes.

“Everyone dies eventually,” Sirius was saying. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a business to put back together –.” He turned back to Remus and froze. “What are you going to do with that?” he asked, eyes focused on the wand in Remus’s hand.

 

“You must understand. You are our last hope and if you don’t help us, he will die.” His hand was steady as he aimed the wand at Sirius. “Give me the locket.”

 

Sirius didn’t go for his wand. He didn’t move for the locket. He stood there, unarmed, and watched Remus. “Stun me,” he said, “or better yet, kill me.”

 

Remus exhaled. “I will,” he said. “If I have to.”

 

“Do it, then,” Sirius commanded, taking a step closer to Remus. “You said it yourself, I don’t lead any kind of life worth living. So go ahead and end it. If James means that much to you, it won’t be hard.”

 

Remus shook. He lifted the wand higher, aiming it at Sirius’s heart.

 

*

 

Remus’s hand was aimed unsteadily at his heart. Sirius shut his eyes. Was this how he would die? Killed by the man he loved? It seemed a fitting end to his life. 

 

“I can’t. I won’t.” 

 

Sirius slowly opened his eyes to see Remus, his face twisted with anger and disquiet, lower the wand. Remus turned away from him.

 

Sirius remained rooted to his spot, watching the tension in Remus’s shoulders.

 

Remus shook his head. “I can’t,” he repeated, his voice very quiet. “I loved you so much. I still love you so much.” And Sirius moved, closed the distance between them with two large steps, coming to stand just behind Remus. Should he reach out? Should he touch him?

 

Remus spun around, his gaze roving over Sirius’s face as if trying to memorize the shade of Sirius’s eyes in the moonlight. 

 

Sirius stood, his pulse a thing like a hurricane rushing through him as a sharp stab of desire caught and held him. 

 

“I love you,” Remus said again, his voice low with need, and the wand clattered out of his hand. Sirius saw the truth of those words flame in Remus’s eyes. 

 

And something uncoiled in his chest, some dark and deep craving that reached to his fingers and filled his head with heat, and made the room around him a dim thing of shapes and light. 

 

“I can’t stay away from you. I won’t,” Remus declared, his eyes fixing on Sirius’s lips, hungry and – 

 

He didn’t know who moved first, but then they were colliding, lips pressed together and chests pressed together and mouths greedily rediscovering each other.

 

Remus’s mouth was hard and soft all at once. He tasted like Sirius remembered, sweet and bitter, like sugared almonds. Opening and closing his mouth wetly, hungrily, Sirius’s tongue slid against Remus’s. “Don’t stay away,” he mumbled into Remus’s mouth, fisting his hands in Remus’s robes. “Please don’t.”

 

“Never,” swore Remus fervently, pushing his hips against Sirius. 

 

Sirius was charged and craving. Would they regret this, in the light of day? He imagined so, but the thought did little to stop him from reaching out, a child grasping for what he wanted, with little concern for consequences. 

 

He gasped, opening his mouth wider. Remus invaded his senses, familiar tastes and feels. His blood pulsated loudly in his veins. His heart thumped erratically in his chest. He shuddered as Remus bumped his thighs with his own, maneuvering him back against the wall until his shoulders bumped against it. Remus was there, looking at him, his pale eyes aglow in the moonlight. Would he leave Sirius tomorrow? Would he - 

 

Sirius shook his head, he couldn’t think about that now, not when – 

 

“Oh.” He felt the burn of Remus’s hands. Shutting his eyes, Sirius breathed in deeply. He leaned his head back against the wall, as Remus traced the line of his chin, his mouth warm and wet and brushing lightly against him, nipping his way slowly down Sirius’s neck and sending heat spiraling through him. He bucked against Remus’s body, and Remus ground his bony hips back against Sirius, his erection pushing right against Sirius’s stomach. 

 

Sirius grunted. He was weightless, swimming in a cloud of need. Remus’s lips settled wetly on his again, anchoring him back to the ground, and he opened up greedily, gripping Remus’s slippery hair in his hand, angling his head to push in deeper, until he was sure he tasted blood. He heard a rumble come from Remus, and it went straight to his cock. 

 

This, God, he’d missed this. The hands skating across his skin, lips skimming across his flesh, the feel of a heavy cock pressed against him. Never, with anyone else, not like this. 

 

Remus was crushing him against the wall, his weight heavy and comfortable. His hands clenched against Sirius’s robes; his cock – sofuckinghard – aligned against Sirius’s , the friction of it swirling inside him, leaving him panting and breathless and heavy, consumed and shaky with want.

 

“Wait, just… we have to….” Sirius broke off with a gasp.

 

“What?” Remus whispered, teeth pulling at Sirius’s earlobe. Something exploded in Sirius. He was so hard now he thought he’d burst. “What is it?” Remus asked again. He lifted Sirius’s shirt, moving his finger in circles around his belly button. 

 

Sirius sucked a deep breath, hollowing his stomach. “Oh, all right,” was his brilliant reply as he lost his train of thought.

 

All right. He leaned forward ever so slightly, licking Remus’s neck. His skin was salty, as if he’d been sweating, and rough with stubble.

 

All right. Remus’s lips were swollen and Sirius pressed against them. He opened his mouth, moaning into Remus.

 

All right. Their lips stayed connected as they begin to remove their robes. His hands opened and shut, fingers scraping against Remus’s shoulders, feeling him shudder against Sirius.

 

“Yes,” Remus murmured against his lips. Sirius lifted up his shirt, hands digging into Remus’s flesh. Tomorrow, there would be bruises there, marking him.

 

“Yes,” Sirius echoed. He moved away briefly, yanking his own shirt over his head. Remus smiled warmly at him, his eyes heavy with desire as he ran a hand through Sirius’s hair. The gesture, at once loving and possessive, had Sirius’s eyes sliding shut on a hiss. 

 

He moved then, desire humming through his body, pushing himself away from the wall, walking Remus backwards until his knees hit a chair and he fell back heavily into it.

 

Remus grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, while Sirius went straight for his belt buckle. Remus’s hips lifted slightly off the seat and Sirius yanked his pants down, letting the fabric pool at his feet. Remus was still pale in the moonlight, narrow chest and narrow hips, a light smattering of hair around his nipples. Because he couldn’t resist, Sirius leaned over, laving his tongue against Remus’s nipple, pulling it, letting his stubble rub against Remus and feeling a smug sense of satisfaction when Remus gasped, his hands finding purchase in Sirius’s hair. It was heady, being in such control. Remus was naked, pale skin shining in the moonlight, and Sirius, still clothed, leaned over him. 

 

He kissed his way across Remus’s soft stomach, circling his tongue around his belly button and feeling a wave of energy when Remus sucked in a deep breath. Sirius gripped Remus’s hips, mouth moving lower, following the line of hair that stretched down Remus’s belly. His cock was already full and heavy with want, but Sirius bypassed it in favor of the freckle on his thigh, tonguing it wetly and smiling when Remus swore.

 

When Sirius took a long swipe at him, eagerly, Remus’s hips lifted and he pushed himself into Sirius, and Sirius sucked and hollowed out his cheeks and eagerly moved his head, up and down, opening his jaw and sucking for all that he was worth, letting the smooth skin of Remus’s skin twist in his mouth. Remus was making low, stuttering sounds, hips moving in frantic circles.

 

He stammered Sirius’s name, once, then twice, and came with a shout. Sirius pulled away with a wet pop, eyes aimed at Remus’s face, open and shining with a sort of familiar bliss that made Sirius feel at once lazy and restless, the desire in him mellowing out into something fine, and sharpening, becoming more acute, rising up from his toes and radiating throughout his body. It was - 

 

It was everything.

 

Remus knew exactly what to do, where to put his hands and his mouth to draw out a keening sound from Sirius, to make him quiver and pant, wetly kissing his nipples, his belly, the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder. Remus chuckled once, in Sirius’s ear, the sound as erotic as anything Sirius had ever heard, and his hand closed around Sirius, who thrust his hips forward into the circle of his palm, wet with his own cum. 

 

More, he needed more. And he needed it now.

 

When Remus’s wet, eager mouth finally, finally slid down Sirius, his mouth fell open in a needy gasp for air. Remus twisted a bit, his tongue slipping into the slit of Sirius’s cock, and Sirius – oh, fuck – squeezed his eyes and clenched his stomach. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his skin. His body was suffused with heat, it swirled through him, and he bucked his hips and fisted his hands in Remus’s hair and pushed into Remus, hips circling towards that bright, shining place until the moonlight became a prism of color behind his eyes, and he emptied himself completely, the misery and loneliness of the past two decades seeping out of him until he was both emptied and whole.


	7. 7

VII  
  
Sirius stood looking out the window, watching the spotlight sweep through the darkness. He felt deeply sated and completely unsatisfied all at once. He glanced over at Remus, who was perched on the desk, a drink cradled in his hands and guilt stamped on his face. He looked a million miles away.  
  
“What happens now?” Sirius asked. He lit a cigarette, still watching Remus.  
  
Remus gave his head a slight shake. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I… don’t….”  
  
“If he needs you again, will you go to him?” Sirius asked, needing to know the answer.  
  
Remus sighed. “I don’t have the strength to leave you again,” he said, almost sadly. Sirius’s heart jumped into his throat. To hear those words from Remus after all this  
time –  
  
“You left me once before,” he said, rather stubbornly.  
  
He watched Remus nod. “I did.”  
  
Sirius had to ask. “Why?”  
  
Remus opened and shut his mouth. “It was… it was so confusing, Sirius. James had come home to find Death Eaters in Peter’s house, with Lily and Wormtail already engaged in battle. He summoned the Aurors right away, and when his call came, I couldn’t ignore it. There were so many bodies by the time I got there, and the Dark Mark hung above the house….” Remus’s eyes had a far off look in them, slightly horrified with the memory of what he must have seen that day.  
  
“Lily had been hit with Avada Kedavra, and Peter had been shot down, and there wasn’t time to think. It was clear they had come to kill James, who had arrived back later than expected from his trip, and James had to get out of there, he had to. I wrote you that note, but I know it wasn’t enough. I wanted to write again, but correspondence with England was too risky, and we had to keep moving.”  
  
He looked slightly horrified. "I don’t regret it,” he said. “James and Harry needed me. They wouldn’t have survived without me.” He brought his eyes up Sirius. “But James doesn’t need me now, not like he did then, and I won’t leave you again. I don’t think I could bear it – we’ve had too many chances ripped away from us.”  
  
Sirius crossed to him. “What about James?” he asked. James, who had lost so much already. Was Sirius willing to take Remus away from him as well? He looked at Remus, trying to imagine having the strength to let him go again. He didn’t think he had it in him.  
  
Remus looked miserable. “James… will keep fighting without me. This cause is more important to him than anything, and if he can save Harry… that will be all that matters to him. James loves me,” Remus said, quietly, “But I’m not the love of his life. That was Lily. Now it’s Harry.” Remus grasped Sirius’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “But you will give him the locket, won’t you?”  
  
Sirius nodded. “Of course I will. I just hope it will be enough.”  
  
“It will have to be,” Remus said.  
  
There was a crash downstairs. Sirius and Remus both jumped slightly. “You really should learn to lock your door,” Remus said with a look concern thrown over his shoulder. Voices floated up the stairs.  
  
Sirius moved to his office door, pulling it open. A sliver of light spilled in.  
  
“It should be safe here,” he heard Pansy say. Her meeting must have ended early. He felt Remus come up behind him.  
  
“Stay here,” he instructed. “Let me see what’s going on.” He took the stairs at a gallop. Pansy hovered over someone. “What’s happened?” Sirius asked, looking to confirm that the front door had been properly shut.  
  
Pansy moved aside, and Sirius’s eyes fell on James, bleeding badly from a cut on his arm. “They broke up our meeting,” Pansy said, speaking quickly. “We only just got away, though I think some others were captured.” She trembled as she spoke, pressing a rag to James’s arm. James was going pale, making the dark patches under his eyes very prominent. It was the first time Sirius had seen him tired.  
  
Sirius avoided his gaze.  
  
“Pansy,” he said. “I want you out of here. There’s no chance the guards didn’t follow the two of you here.” When Pansy opened her mouth to protest, Sirius forcibly grasped her arm. “I’ll be right back, Potter,” he said, marching Pansy to the stairs.  
  
He opened the door to his office. Remus stood in the same place he’d left him, concern etched upon his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked right away.  
  
Pansy turned surprised eyes on them both, but said nothing. Sirius shook his head. “It’s James,” he said.  
  
Remus made as if to move towards the door. “Is he hurt?” he asked. He looked dismal. “What does he need?”  
  
Sirius put himself between Remus and the door. “He’s fine,” he said, “or he will be. I need you to make sure Pansy gets home safely, please.” He looked Remus square in the eye. “I’ll make sure James is okay.”  
  
Remus nodded. “I know you will. Where do we get out?”  
  
Sirius aimed his chin in the direction of a door on the opposite side of the office. “That’ll get you to the alley out back,” he said. Pansy had already made her way to the door. She stood with her hand upon the handle, waiting for Remus.  
  
Remus spoke quietly. “Don’t say anything to him. Let me. I owe him that much.”  
  
“Of course,” Sirius agreed, thinking he’d never want to be the one to give James the news. Not James. “I…I love you,” he said, very softly.  
  
Remus gave him a wobbly smile. “I love you too,” he said, just as quietly.  
  
“Now, go,” Sirius commanded. “And be careful.” He grabbed the bottle off his desk and made his way back to the bar.  
  
“That’s quite a scratch you’ve got on you, Potter,” Sirius remarked, coming to a halt in front of James, his eyes closed, breathing heavily through his nose.  
  
James opened his eyes slowly. Sirius could see pain there. He looked away. “It’ll heal,” was all James said.  
  
The rag he held to his arm was nearly soaked through. Sirius found another. “Here,” he said, going to James and peeling the blood soaked rag from his arm. “A clean one should help.” He stood so close to James now that he could see the flecks in his hazel eyes. “That rag wasn’t tight enough,” Sirius commented, tying the second rag tight enough to halt the bleeding. “That should do it.”  
  
James looked him in the eye. “Thank you.”  
  
Sirius nodded, uncomfortable. “This should help too,” he said, setting two glasses on the bar and pouring a generous shot into each of them. He slid one glass down the bar. James caught it with his good hand and knocked back half its contents in one swallow. He grimaced.  
  
“I wasn’t wrong about them following you,” Sirius continued, taking a large sip from his own glass. He exhaled loudly. “We should really get you out of here.”  
  
James nodded. He stood. “I can probably make it back to the hotel. Thanks for the drink, Bla – Sirius. “ He swayed a little on his feet, and Sirius moved on instinct to help him. James held up his hand. “No, I’m fine.” He met Sirius’s eye. “I know about you and Remus,” he said after a long pause. Sirius felt a jolt of panic rush through him. How could he possibly –?  
  
“That you used to be in love with each other,” James continued. And Sirius tried to relax. “And that you would probably be together now, if Remus hadn’t… if I hadn’t needed him. I just want you to know, I’m sorry for the way things turned out.” James grimaced again. “And not just with you and Remus. I’m sorry for how everything turned out.” His meaning was clear, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to agree with him. But he didn’t have it in him, not when he may have just taken the best thing in James’s life away from him.  
  
Instead he said, “You have no reason to be sorry for anything, James.”  
  
James nodded. He began to turn towards the front door when three armed men crashed in. Sirius jumped slightly, but James remained impassive.  
  
“Potter?” growled one of them.  
  
“That’s me,” said James, standing up a bit taller.  
  
“We’ve a warrant for your immediate arrest,” the man said around a vicious smile. “You’re to come with me now.”  
  
Sirius thought he would protest, but James only held his head high, casting a long look at Sirius before allowing himself to be escorted from the bar.  
  
*  
  
“You won’t be able to hold him for long. You know that.”  
  
“I can hold him longer than a day,” Horace said. “Letting him go is not an option. I appreciate that he was once a friend of yours, Black, but Umbridge would never agree to let him out so quickly. At least, not before he spent a good deal of time with the Dementors.” Horace shuddered slightly. There were many particularly nasty aspects of this job, but handing over people to the Dementors was by far the most awful. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like a drink? I just bought a marvelous bottle of vintage port last week.”  
  
Sirius shook his head impatiently, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m not doing this out of concern for Potter. I’m doing it for me.”  
  
“What does setting Potter free have to do with you, other than maybe easing your conscience?”  
  
Sirius smiled. Inexplicably, Horace was reminded of the boy he had taught. “I don’t expect him to be free for long, old man. I expect you to arrest him again, and this time on charges that will stick.”  
  
Horace sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of his belly. “What sort of charges would those be?”  
  
“Possession of contraband.”  
  
Something clicked in Horace’s mind. “The locket… does he have it?”  
  
Sirius shook his head. “No, but he will.”  
  
Horace didn’t trust him. “We searched your place this morning, Black. It wasn’t there.”  
  
“Do you think I’d put it somewhere you could find it? Give me some credit.”  
  
“All right,” said Horace. “Suppose you’re telling me the truth. What possible reason would you have for ensuring that Potter is put away for life?”  
  
“I’m leaving,” Sirius said. He paused. “With Remus Lupin.”  
  
Horace’s eyebrows shot up. “I did not see that coming,” he said with a coy smile. “I always said you were sentimental.”  
  
Sirius returned the smile, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll make sure Potter has the locket on him,” he said. “But I need you to do something for me.”  
  
Hesitantly, Horace nodded. “What would that be?”  
  
“I want out. I want use of your Floo for Remus and myself.”  
  
“Remus Lupin is nearly as wanted as James Potter,” Horace pointed out.  
  
“There’s no deal if I don’t have your guarantee that Remus and I both leave here unscathed. As a matter of fact,” Sirius said, sitting back, “I won’t be giving James the locket until I have complete proof that Remus and I will be safe. Tonight, at your Floo portal. I’ll give it to him there.”  
  
“How will you even get him there?”  
  
“When you release him, have your boys bring him there. Leave the rest to me. Potter’s got a suspicious mind though, so it’d be in your best interest to call off your men once he’s there.” Sirius leaned forward again. “Do we have a deal?”  
  
Horace still didn’t trust him completely, and the idea of turning James Potter over to Voldemort still left him a little unsettled, but the truth of the matter was there was no real hope for Potter. He’d signed his own death warrant long ago. If Horace was the one to bring him in… well, a fat raise was the least compensation he expected. Still, it wouldn’t do to walk into this entirely alone. Dolores Umbridge would be delighted by the news.  
  
He found himself nodding. “It won’t be the same without you here. I had grown rather fond of you, you know.”  
  
Sirius smiled at him. “I’m certain whatever compensation your government gives you will more than make up for the lonely nights you’ll spend missing me.”  
  
“Undoubtedly,” agreed Slughorn. “Until tonight then.”  
  
*  
  
It was raining.  
  
He stood at the window, lulled into a false sense of calm by the sound. Tonight, the letter in his hand said. Tonight they would escape. He knew Sirius Black had many wretched qualities, but Severus had to hand it to him: he was still loyal to a fault.  
  
*  
  
He’d placed a closed sign on the front door of Sirius’s. He’d signed over the deed to the place to Pansy. He’d dressed for traveling. He sent a note to Remus, asking that he meet Sirius at seven, and another, longer note to Snape, hoping the man had enough decency in him to hear Sirius out.  
  
He did not think about the future. He’d learned not to a long time ago.  
  
Sirius regarded the locket, holding it up to the light. It didn’t look like much, as far as he was concerned, rather tacky and unimpressive. It didn’t hum in his hands or twinkle with supernatural force. But a piece of Voldemort’s soul was in it.  
  
It was decidedly creepy. He shuddered and slipped it back into his pocket, hand brushing against a folded up piece of parchment in the process.  
  
The front door opened.  
  
Remus walked in, robes soaked though and looking grim and shaken, face drawn and shoulders hunched over. He rushed to Sirius immediately, giving him a long, anxious stare, and Sirius put his arms around him, unconcerned with the water that dripped off of Remus. He wanted nothing more than to cast the feel of Remus in bronze, to put it in his pocket and keep it with him always.  
  
“Everything will be all right,” Sirius said, trying to believe the words.  
  
Remus tried to smile, and failed miserably. “Of course it will,” he said. “James is coming here, then?”  
  
Sirius nodded. “They have nothing to hold him on.”  
  
Remus gave an absent-minded nod. “I should do this by myself. If you can give us a moment….”  
  
The door opened a second time, and James walked in. He too was dripping from head to toe. He eyed Remus and Sirius for a moment, and Remus took a step away from Sirius.  
  
“I should thank you for getting me out,” James said, turning to Sirius. Tension radiated off him.  
  
Sirius shook his head. “Don’t thank me until you’re actually out of danger,” he said.  
  
James frowned. “That’s not likely to ever happen,” he said.  
  
“I have the locket,” Sirius told him, watching James’s face. “And a way for you to escape tonight.” He pulled the locket out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, offering his hand to James. The chain hung from his finger; the locket swung pendulously before him, glowing in the light. James’s eyes followed it as if hypnotized.  
  
Sirius cast a look at Remus, who was watching James with bated breath, his eyes slightly glossy.  
  
“That’s it,” James breathed. He reached out and cupped the locket, slipping the chain from Sirius’s hand. He looked at it as if it was the most precious thing he had ever held.  
  
James didn’t look as if he believed what he held in his grasp. “What do you want from me in return?” he asked suspiciously, eyes finally moving to Sirius.  
  
Sirius cast another quick glance towards Remus. He looked back at James. “Nothing at all,” he said. “It’s on the house.”  
  
“I don’t know how to thank you –.”  
  
“That fireplace over there,” Sirius said, nodding behind James. “It’ll take you wherever you need to go. There’s a special incantation for it.”  
  
James studied Sirius for a moment, as if too overcome to fully grasp his words. Then he frowned. “Do you know it?”  
  
Sirius shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”.  
  
James opened his mouth. “Sirius,’ he began.  
  
Another door opened, towards the back of the room. Slughorn was highlighted in the entranceway, his bulbous belly protruding slightly. “Mr. Potter,” he said, quite loudly, his wand aimed at the three of them. “In possession of stolen goods.” He tisked. “I’m afraid I have little choice but to arrest you.”  
  
Sirius slipped his hand casually inside his pocket. Both James and Remus had turned surprised eyes towards him. “No,” Remus said, taking a quick step towards James. “That’s not -.”  
  
Sirius saw Slughorn give a rather delighted smile in James’s direction. “Sirius is a tricky young man,” he said, “but it turns out you have something he finds even more precious than this locket, and in the end, he - ”  
  
“Hold on,” Sirius said. He pulled his wand. “ _Expelliarmus_ ,” he said quietly. Slughorn’s wand flew from his grasp into Sirius’s hands.  
  
“Potter’s not the one who’s in for the surprise today, I’m afraid, old man.”  
  
Slughorn’s smile faded. “You sneaky bastard,” he said.  
  
“It takes one to know one, wouldn’t you say?” He slipped Slughorn’s wand into his pocket. “I shouldn’t like to have to use this,” Sirius said, waving his own wand around. “But I will. The incantation for the portal, if you don’t mind.”  
  
Slughorn remained silent and Sirius waved his wand again. “Now isn’t the time to be stubborn,” he said with a threat heavy in his voice. “The incantation. And be quick about it.”  
  
“Has sense left you completely?” Slughorn asked. “You’ll be arrested immediately, you must know that.”  
  
“It has and I do,” Sirius said. “Now give it.”  
  
Slughorn nodded and reluctantly gave the spell.  
  
Sirius held out his wand to James. “I’ll leave the honors to you,” he said. “But keep an eye on this guy.” He nodded towards Slughorn. James took the wand with a nod of his own. While he bent low to whisper the incantation, Sirius turned to Remus.  
  
“Are you ready to go?” he said.  
  
“Go?” Remus said. Comprehension dawned on his face. “No, Sirius,” he said. “I’m only leaving if you are.”  
  
“Don’t be a fool,” Sirius said. “You belong with James.”  
  
Remus remained determined. “I belong with you.”  
  
Sirius shook his head sadly. “You know you can’t turn your back on this now. You’ve come too far, and you have to see this war to its end. I know you, Remus,” Sirius whispered, his eyes resting on Remus’s face. “You won’t be happy if you don’t.”  
  
“I’ll be happy with you,” Remus insisted.  
  
“You might be happy with me for a few months, even a few years, but eventually this life, it would suck away everything good inside of you. The guilt would eat you up, sending James into this battle alone. You’re a good man,” Sirius said, reaching out to touch Remus’s cheek. “You would never be happy unless you were helping to change the world. I know you love me,” Sirius continued when Remus opened his mouth to protest. “And I’ll always love you. But what we had….” He trailed off, forcing back tears.  
  
“What about our dreams?” Remus asked. He voice broke just slightly.  
  
Sirius swallowed. “We’ll always have those,” he said. “But this is reality. It’s cruel, and it’s heartless, but it is what it is. I don’t want to be the thing that holds you back, Remus, and I will be, if I let you stay with me.” Though it hurt to say it, Sirius knew the truth of his words. “The life you want, it’s with James now.”  
  
Remus looked as if he wanted to argue with him, but he said nothing. He glanced at James, still bent over the fireplace, and looked back at Sirius, nodding.  
  
“I love you,” he whispered. “Always.”  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“It’s all set,” James said from beside the fireplace. Remus walked resolutely over to him. They stood together, both still wet from the rain. Sirius met James’s eye.  
  
James held out his hand. “Your wand,” he said to Sirius.  
  
“Keep it,” Sirius said. “It won’t do me much good now.”  
  
James hesitated. “What will you do?”  
  
Sirius shrugged. “What I always do,” he answered. “Survive. There’s something else I want you to have,” he said, reaching into his pocket again. He pulled out a slip of parchment. “If you’re going to Hogwarts, this will come in handy.”  
  
“I can’t believe you still have this,” James said, taking the Marauder’s map from Sirius’s hands. He looked up at Sirius, his eyes overcome with memories.  
  
“I couldn’t bear to part with it,” Sirius admitted. He gestured to the fireplace. “You two had better get going.”  
  
“Padfoot, I….”  
  
“There’s no need,” Sirius said.  
  
He watched them move together. Remus went into the portal first. He didn’t look at Sirius again. He would have bruises from Sirius’s hands on his skin. Would he mourn their fading?  
  
“You are a good man,” James said with a slight smile, after Remus had disappeared from sight. Sirius tried to keep his face calm. “I was right all along.”  
  
“Don’t let it go to your head, Potter. You might not be able to fit it into that fireplace if it gets any bigger.”  
  
James gave a familiar laugh, and Sirius couldn’t help but smile in return. James stepped into the fireplace. In a flash of green smoke and ash, he too disappeared.  
  
Sirius stared at the empty hearth.  
  
“You know I’m going to have to arrest you,” Slughorn commented. He made no move towards Sirius.  
  
“I do,” Sirius said.  
  
The front door opened with a loud clatter. Sirius glanced towards it, expecting –  
  
Umbridge marched into the room, her robes neatly pressed and her hair pulled back in its ridiculous bow.  
  
Sirius aimed a look at Slughorn. “Is this your doing?”  
  
Slughorn shrugged. “Sneaky bastard, remember? I had to ensure I had backup.”  
  
Umbridge looked impatiently around the room. “Where are Potter and Lupin?”  
  
“They’ve already gone to the Three Broomsticks,” Slughorn said. He held up his hands, as if showing he had no control over the matter.  
  
“When did they leave?” she asked, already moving towards the hearth. “If it wasn’t long ago we can still catch them.”  
  
Sirius drew Slughorn’s wand from his pocket. “Get away from the fireplace,” he demanded.  
  
Umbridge paid him no heed. “We’ll have to follow them,” she said, pulling her wand and aiming it at the fireplace.  
  
“I told you get away,” Sirius said. “I have no qualms about using this on you.”  
  
She didn’t appear to be listening. “I knew Madam Rosemerta wasn’t to be trusted,” she mumbled. “We’ll need to inform Hogwarts immediately, send out as many men as possible…”  
  
“Drop your wand,” Sirius said again, aiming his own. He couldn’t let her leave here –  
  
The door banged open again, this time blowing completely off its hinges. A flash of green light hit Umbridge. She crumpled to the ground. Sirius and Slughorn both turned towards the door. Snape stood in the rain, robes drenched and stuck to his tall, lanky frame. His hair was plastered to his head. Water dripped from his nose. He really was one ugly piece of work.  
  
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Sirius said. He couldn’t believe how happy he was to see him.  
  
“And miss an opportunity to see you standing alone with no friends left in the world? Not likely,” Snape sneered.  
  
Sirius shot a glance at Slughorn, who stood watching the two with his mouth hanging open, his chins effectively piled up against his neck.  
  
“I’ve got backup too,” was all Sirius said.  
  
To his surprise, Slughorn chuckled. “She really did have the most awful taste,” he said. He bent towards the fireplace with a heavy groan, picked up Umbridge’s fallen wand, and whispered a spell. Both Sirius and Snape trained their wands on him.  
  
Blue light flashed. A tired looking Death Eater’s face came into view.  
  
“Dolores Umbridge has been murdered,” Slughorn told the man. “I expect a suspect list on my desk in the morning.”  
  
The Death Eater in the fire nodded. “Of course, Sir,” he said. Sirius could already see the wheels grinding in his head.  
  
The flames died just as quickly as they had appeared. “You two had better leave town,” Slughorn said, standing with some difficulty and turning back to them. “You know the incantation,” he said to Sirius. “But when your side wins, I want you to remember who let you go.’  
  
Sirius glanced at Snape, who glared at him, but said, “We could probably use the services of someone as morally corrupt as you.”  
  
Sirius felt his lip curl. “Coming from you, I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He sent a glance towards Slughorn. “I’m keeping your wand,” he said.  
  
“Of course you are. How else am I going to explain that you got away?” He turned towards the spot where the door once hung. “If you’re not gone in five minutes, I’ll be back to arrest you,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the darkness and rain.  
  
Sirius watched him go. He held the wand in his hand.  
  
“You can go anywhere you want now, Black,” Snape said when Sirius turned his eyes to him. “You can even leave me here to take the fall.”  
  
Sirius nodded. “Is that what you expect me to do?”  
  
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”  
  
“Even after what you just did for me, you think I’d do that?”  
  
“I didn’t kill her for you. That was for Potter and Lupin, for Dumbledore.”  
  
“Well, get ready to be surprised then,” Sirius said, “because I’m coming with you.”  
  
Snape looked about as excited at the prospect as Sirius felt. “It’s not an easy life.”  
  
Sirius shrugged. “It never is.”  
  
“Don’t get any romantic ideas about us being friends, walking off into the sunset together,” Snape cautioned. He tucked his wand into his pocket. “I still can’t stand you.”  
  
Sirius laughed. He aimed his wand at the fireplace. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.  
  
Fin


End file.
